


Fractured Love

by Ventorum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anti-Possession Tattoos, Bobby Deals With Idjits, Bobby's House, Comfort, Comforting Dean, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Dean is a Softie, Fallen Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hugs, Human Castiel, Hunter Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Castiel, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Love, Loving Castiel, Loving Dean, M/M, Making Out, Original Character(s), Parental Bobby Singer, Parental Dean, Parental Dean Winchester, Protective Bobby, Protective Dean Winchester, Protectiveness, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Schmoop, Sick Dean Winchester, Supportive Dean, Supportive Sam, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Worried Bobby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ventorum/pseuds/Ventorum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunt gone wrong leaves Cas with a broken leg, and Dean is surprisingly good at being needed.<br/>Just when they'd enjoy a little privacy together, Sam's soft-heartedness lands them with a couple of teen run aways, making Bobby's a full house.<br/>The "saving people and hunting things" has to go on some how!<br/>Set after season 5. The apocalypse was averted, Castiel has fallen, and Bobby is alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crutches

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I own no rights to any of the Supernatural characters. Duh. ;)

Dean had to admit, as warehouse-sized buildings went, this one was cleaner and brighter than the usual he, Sam and Cas tended to end up chasing monsters into. He saw Cas jump from the walkway above, down to the cheese factory floor, but there was gleaming machinery blocking his view of Cas’ landing. He heard Cas give an uncharacteristically loud cry and ran to the scene, shotgun in hand. 

The werewolf was sandwiched between Sam, who was on the floor underneath it and Cas who was lying on top of the heap. Cas’ hands were still wrapped around the hilt of his silver sword, all that was visible of it from the werewolf’s deep rib cage. The wolf was very dead.  
Sam let out a loud whoosh of air as he tried to catch his breath. He held his hand out to Dean from under the wolf’s heavy carcass and raised his brows pitifully. “A little help here?”  
Cas rolled himself off the hairy heap, leaving the sword still embedded between the werewolf’s ribs. Dean slapped his free hand into Sam’s and gripped his wrist, hauling his brother out from beneath the heavy pile. He let go of Sam to pull Cas’ sword from the wolf’s back, with a nasty suction noise. He wiped it on the creature’s fur. He skirted around the smelly creature to hand Cas his sword and frowned when Cas, seated on the floor with his back to some stainless steel machinery, didn’t look up. Dean prodded him gently with the sword. “Hey. You okay?” He laid his shotgun and the sword on the floor and rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. An icy shiver ran down Dean’s spine. “It didn’t _get_ you did it?” Cas shook his head and allowed Dean to help him up. As he tried to put his weight on his right leg it collapsed beneath him.  
“Whoah!” Dean thrust his shoulder under Cas’ armpit to help him stay up. Sam hurried to Cas’ other side as Dean put a hand to Cas’ pallid cheek. “You’re sweating.”  
Sam’s face filled with concern fuelled by guilt. “Cas are you injured? Where does it hurt?”  
Cas gave a short nod and gasped, “My leg. It’s agonizing to put weight on it.”  
“Right, I’ll get him to the car. Sam, you get rid of this … health code violation.”

-oOo-

Dean’s stomach felt like the inside of a lava lamp. Cas had risked himself saving Sam and for that Dean would be eternally grateful. The impact of the jump had caused what the doctor (after bundling Dean out of the x-ray room) called an incomplete fracture of the tibia, so the odds of it healing properly were good, but it was still painful and inconvenient. A fractured leg meant pain medication and the thought of Cas taking narcotic medications had Dean wound up tighter than a watch spring. He still didn’t want Cas to change; not into _that_. The doctors refused to let him hover like a mother hen while Cas got his cast too. Dean got up from the uncomfortable, plastic, waiting room chair and paced a few steps. Sam who had been slouched in the seat next to him suggested Dean go for a walk and get a coffee.  
“No. I want to be here when he comes out.” Dean found Sam’s sympathetic pause annoying.  
“He’ll be fine, Dean.”  
“No, he’ll be all bewildered and … and hurt-looking.”  
Sam snorted. “When I was a kid, you told _me_ to harden the hell up!”  
“That was dad. _I_ drew a dick on your cast,” Dean responded smiling sentimentally.  
“…Oh yeah. That was embarrassing. Jerk.”  
Dean grinned back “Bitch.”  
When Cas came hobbling out on crutches, with his newly minted cast, he _did_ look bewildered. He was trying to limp on the crutches and hold onto a slip of paper at the same time, until Sam took the paper from Cas’ fingers. “Prescription? I’ll go get it.” He headed off to the in-hospital pharmacy, leaving Dean and Cas to their “profound bonding” as he liked to call it. Dean’s hand lifted for a second and his mouth opened to call after Sam, but he changed his mind. Cas might need the medication for the first few nights.  
Dean found himself gazing into distressed blue eyes. “They say I have to wear this for three months.”  
Dean didn’t really want to tell him that after that, there would be months of rehabilitation and a year or two of going easy on high impact activities, like jumping, kicking, fighting - everything involved in hunting.  
“You _saved Sam’s life_. We’ll look after you.” Dean pulled Cas’ head closer and planted a kiss on his forehead.  
Cas ducked his head, blushed a little and smiled sheepishly. “I will always defend you and Sam, ” he mumbled. Dean chuckled and rubbed his back. “Come on let’s get you to a motel so you can rest.”

-oOo-

Sam came striding back, with brown bags of burgers tucked under his arm. He unlocked the motel door to find Dean sleeping curled against Cas’ side on the double bed, both of them still dressed but under the covers, with Dean’s cheek resting on Cas’ shoulder.  
He scrunched his nose up at the stuffiness of the room. He put the paper bags down on the ugly tripod table and pushed aside the lime green curtains to try to open the window. It was painted shut. “Freaking fire traps,” he muttered and resorted to leaving the door open for a few minutes.  
When he turned back, Dean was sitting up rubbing his face. “Shut the door, dude.”  
“It stinks in here, man.”  
Dean smirked. “Shut up. It’s manly musk.” Sam’s face scrunched in disgust.  
“Wha’s’appening?” Cas slurred. He had lifted his head from the pillow and was frowning with eyes that clearly resented being open.  
Dean tried to brush back Cas’ mess of hair, but just made it worse. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep.” He gently pressed Cas’ head back to the pillow. He leaned down until their foreheads and noses were touching and whispered a few words, then laid a slow kiss on Cas’ lips. Sam’s eyes widened at Dean’s uncharacteristic display of affection. He was pretty sure he must have read Dean’s lips wrong. Probably.  
“I’ll look after you.” Dean murmured tucking the covers back around Cas.  
“R’lly?” Cas was smiling dopily at Dean. It was probably the pain medication talking, Sam realised. Dean was gazing back a little too intensely for Sam’s comfort, so he said something, anything, to fill the awkward void. “Sure. You’re family. He loves you.”  
Cas’ eyes were starting to close. “I’m family?”  
“Yeah,” Dean whispered hoarsely.  
Cas' eyes dropped shut and his lips curled with humour. “I hope not, or what we did while Sam was out is very wrong.”  
Dean huffed a small laugh at that. Sam scrunched his nose up in distaste and snatched up his bag of food. “I’m eating _outside_.”

-oOo-

“Dean…” Dean looked up with his mouth full of burger. They were eating on the stoop outside the motel room so Cas could rest and they could leave the door open, airing the room out.  
“Whuh?”  
“Don’t get me wrong. I know you guys have a …‘thing’” Sam picked at the label on his beer bottle, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “And it’s _nice_ that you’re being all … expressive with Cas, but what’s with all the PDA?”  
Dean swallowed the huge mouthful. “You’re not gonna understand, Sam. It’s the pain pills.”  
“Uh… _you’re_ taking the pills?” Sam’s brows rose in concern, wrinkling his forehead.  
Dean’s expression rapidly cycled through surprised, confused and offended. “What? No!” He rolled his eyes. “I mean Cas. Remember that time Zachariah sent me to 2014? He tried to convince me that all that awful crap would happen if I didn’t say yes to being Michael’s meatsuit?”  
Sam nodded. “Yeah.”  
Dean intently focussed on picking the pickles out of his burger. “Well, Cas was … a burnt-out, jaded wreck. And me, I mean future me, I wasn’t helping. Cas was using stuff… to cope.”  
Dean looked up at Sam with real worry in his eyes. “I want him to know he has me to lean on… I don’t want him to feel… alone or hopeless.”  
Sam tried to smile reassuringly. “Dean, _none_ of that stuff can happen now. We won.” Dean’s eyes widened hopefully, so Sam continued. “You walk around carrying everyone else’s burdens, Dean. _This_ Cas is never going to become _that_ guy. You can’t go around doing all this ‘pre-emptive’ crap to avoid stuff that might never happen. Talk to him. Just tell him to be careful and tell him _why_.”  
Dean grinned and bumped his shoulder against Sam’s, “Were you studying to be a lawyer, or a social worker?”


	2. Time Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam loses his patience, and makes Dean deal with his fears.

Sam was agitatedly ramming his belongings into his duffle bag in preparation for their departure in the morning. “We can _still_ hunt. We could leave Cas with Bobby.”  
Dean sat on the end of the rumpled double bed with Cas laid diagonally across it. “Bobby’s not a babysitter, Sam - and Cas isn’t a child. I’m not arguing about this now. Cas is sleeping.”  
“’m not,” Cas grumbled. His head rested on Dean’s thigh, facing the TV, but his eyes were closed. Dean’s fingers stroked through his hair. “Well, you _almost_ are.” He observed Cas’ comfort with this level of intimacy and smiled to himself.  
“Anyway, we can discuss it tomorrow in the car. We’ll have to pull over every hour or so for Cas to get out and get some circulation happening anyway. Doctor’s orders.”  
“Some _discussion_.” Sam complained, still packing, with his back to Dean. Sam scowled. He didn’t expect to win the argument about Dean’s control issues. His pointedly violent packing technique however, showed that he hadn’t given up the fight.

-oOo-

Sam was woken from his uncomfortable sleep on the roll-out bed by a low moan. He snapped his eyes open and immediately shut them again, afraid of what he might see. He squinted one eye open and propped himself up on his elbows from his floor level mattress. He peered cautiously at the double bed and heard Dean whispering. He was in time to see Dean quietly roll out of bed and slip into the bathroom. Water ran in the bathroom and Sam heard another quiet moan from the bed as Cas tried to sit up. Just as Dean came back with a glass of water for Cas, Sam flopped down onto the roll-out bed, feeling slightly sleazy for jumping to the wrong conclusion. Cas’ raw whisper seemed loud in the predawn stillness. “Thank you, Dean.”  
“Don’t thank me. You’re not getting any more of those ’til before bedtime.” Dean’s ‘tough love’ voice was one Sam recognised from his days after giving up demons’ blood. Dean climbed back into the bed, but sat up, straight as a rod.  
“What if I’m in a lot of pain?” Cas’ voice was laced with concern. “I am in considerable pain now.”  
“That’s just ’cause you were lying in bed all night and then you tried to move.”  
Dean correctly interpreted Cas’ silence as doubt. “Alright, alright. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll keep the painkillers. You tell me when you think you need some and tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how bad your pain is.”  
Cas’ hands clenched around fistfuls of blanket. “What do you mean ‘when I _think_ I need some’? Do you believe I am _imagining_ the pain? You should trust to me look after _my own_ medication, Dean. And what does “on a scale of one to ten” mean?”  
Sam was surprised to hear Dean trying to keep his cool. “How about we let Sam keep the pills? He’s impartial.” Cas exhaled loudly in dissatisfaction. Dean failed to keep his cool. “And no, I don’t think you’re _imagining_ the pain! I meant you don’t have a lot of experience with human pain! The scale is how I can tell how bad your pain is! Where _one_ is hunger pains, and _ten_ is you explode like a water balloon full of chunky soup and _rain molars in people’s hair!_ ” Dean’s voice had gradually grown louder and he was waving wild, expansive gestures with his arms.  
Sam sighed and sat up, dragging his hands down over his face in despair. He _knew_ Dean had never quite gotten over that incident. He felt like the only adult in a room full of socially stunted toddlers. “Time out!” he bellowed.

-oOo-

“I’m serious,” Sam said, bending down to load their bags into the trunk of the Impala. “I’m not getting into the car until you two make up. I’m not riding in silence for hours, with you two radiating righteous indignation at each other.” He slammed the trunk shut forcefully.  
Dean leaned against the Impala, arms folded, in his usual jacket and jeans. He darted an accusing glare at Castiel, who scowled back, perched on his crutches in track pants, t-shirt and hoodie.  
“I’m going to return the key to the office now,” Sam continued, “and when I get back, you two had better be talking again. For Christ’s sake, Dean! Tell him!” Sam turned and stalked away towards the motel’s head office with his shoulders drawn tight.  
Dean’s eyes darted back to Cas. Cas’ curious glance quickly slid away. Dean took a breath and stepped closer to Cas, stopping beside him. Cas peeked sideways at him for a moment but didn’t say anything. Dean curled a hand around Cas’ upper arm and carefully took the crutches from him. “Let’s get you in the car.” He leaned Cas’ crutches against the car and opened the back door of the Impala. “Back yourself in there. I’ll help you keep your weight off your foot.” Dean held onto Cas’ wrists, as Cas gingerly lowered himself onto the back seat without a word. Dean bent down to lean in through the door, with a strained look putting a line between his brows. “…Cas.”  
Castiel watched him, puzzled, but without the frustration he’d felt earlier in the morning.  
“Just stay there.”  
Cas stayed, seated sideways, his right leg lying straight along the back seat, facing the doorway Dean had just vacated. Dean went to the other side of the Impala and climbed in the back. He crawled towards Cas’ straight back and sat behind Cas with one leg folded under himself. For some reason it seemed easier to talk with Cas’ back to him. “I’m not really good at this, okay?” He hesitantly put an arm around Cas from behind. He started to tell his story with his chin resting on Cas’ shoulder, his lips close to Cas’ ear.  
“When Zachariah zapped me to 2014 he showed me how bad the future could get, if I said no to Michael. There was Croatoan virus _everywhere_. Sam had said “yes” to Lucifer. You were there. You’d stayed. When all the other angels left - you stayed.”  
Dean felt Cas’ hand cover his and give a firm squeeze. “I would never abandon you, Dean.”  
The lump in his throat made Dean’s voice hoarse. “But I abandoned _you_ , Cas. I’d changed after losing Sam - I tossed you aside. You were… so cynical. So resigned. You were using drugs to numb it all. You were so lost, so broken and the drugs couldn't help you, but you kept _taking_ them. I let you down. I disappointed you. You were _so_ disappointed in me.”  
Cas twisted his head to look Dean in the eyes, their lips not quite touching. “I am not disappointed.”  
Dean whispered, “I don’t want to see you like that, Cas.”  
Cas reached back with his hand and stroked Dean’s cheek. He tilted his head back against Dean’s shoulder. Dean felt Cas’ fingers put a little more pressure on his cheek. Cas’ mouth curved humorously at the corners. “Dean. I can’t move. You have to come to me.” It took a second for Dean to realise what Cas was trying to do.  
“Oh.”  
They both smiled as he pressed his mouth to Cas’ impatient lips. The feel of Cas’ lips pressing back, supple and willing, his tongue softly rolling against Dean’s own, made Dean’s senses reel. He smiled a little more at the pleasant fuzziness of it. He put out his hand against the front seat for stability, eyes closed. His other hand seemed to be busy, tied up in a fistful of Cas’ t-shirt. Cas slowly pulled away when he became breathless, and drew his nose along Dean’s stubbled cheek. He rested his face against Dean’s neck while he caught his breath. Dean stroked a hand through Cas’ soft, messy hair. His smile grew. He really liked doing that. He wanted to say something deep - but all that came out was “Thanks for saving Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes at himself. He slid his hand under the hood of Cas’ jacket, ran his hand over Cas’ shoulders and felt Cas’ warm lips suck against his neck for a moment.  
A shadow fell across Cas’ legs through the dusty car window and Sam leaned his head down into the car, a mischievous  
twinkle in his eye. “I’ll drive. You can play Florence Nightingale in the back.” He stood back up and grinned, waiting for the backlash.  
Dean released Cas and scrambled backwards out of the other side of the car. He argued over the roof. “No way. _I’ll_ drive.” He slammed the back door closed and stormed around to Sam’s side. “You drive like a douche!” He poked Sam in the chest for emphasis before he hooked open the driver’s side door, climbed into the front seat and slammed the door shut.  
Sam laughed as he laid Cas’ crutches on the floor behind the front seats and carefully closed the car door making sure Cas’ foot was clear. “Shut up, _you’re_ the douche, Dean!” Cas grinned at their comfortable banter.  
Dean’s response was to crank up Motörhead’s No Class.


	3. Pit Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gas stop gets difficult for Cas and Sam, but for different reasons.

The Impala rumbled into the gas station and came to a smooth rolling stop behind a dusty campervan . There was the ratchetting sound of the hand brake and the ticking of her heated engine cooling. Dean switched the radio off and stretched an arm across the back of the passenger seat, turning towards the back seat with a pre-emptive comment. “I don’t care if you have to pee sitting down with that cast - I am _not_ helping you go to the bathroom.”  
Cas looked at their surroundings, blinking sleepily and croaked, “I think I must have slept.” Sam turned to face Cas with his eyebrows raised in disbelief and snorted. “Through an hour long loop of Zeppelin’s _Black Dog_? Man, you’re my hero.”  
Dean’s lips drew tight as he frowned. “It’s the painkillers. Go easy on them, man.” Cas met his anxious frown calmly and nodded once in consent. Sam unfolded himself from the passenger seat and headed into the store.  
“Hey! Get me some of those pizza flavoured Cheetos!” Dean called after him. Sam waved a hand without turning, showing he’d heard.  
Dean climbed out of the car and skirted around to open Cas’ door. He paused for the briefest second beside the opened door, then turned to uncap the tank and started filling it with gas. His eyes repeatedly returned to Cas struggling his way out of the back seat and onto his crutches. Dean’s hands itched from the effort of _not_ reaching out. Cas leaned on his crutches catching his breath for a moment. “I can _feel_ you watching me, Dean.”  
“You’re doing great, Cas,” he encouraged quietly. Cas huffed wearily and started limping, around the well-travelled campervan, towards the men’s room.

  
-oOo-

  
Dean handed cash notes over the counter for the gas. Beside him, Sam held an arm load of junk food and sodas. Dean grinned at him. “I _knew_ you’d start eating like a ‘real boy’ one day, Sam.” Sam smiled smugly and waved the packet of Turkey Jerky in his hand under Dean’s nose. “Low fat, low sodium, low carb, low GI.”  
Dean’s mouth scrunched in disapproval as he raised an admonishing finger and searched for an argument against it. “…Okay. But only ‘cause jerky’s more manly than salad,” he allowed. A pair of rumpled-looking adolescents queued up behind them. They looked alike enough, with the same wavy, brown hair to be siblings. The impatient jostling of each other’s elbows and exasperated sighing confirmed it.  
Dean craned his neck to look for Cas in the aisles. “Where’s Cas?”  
Sam’s eyes swept the store as he paid the skinny, acne-pocked attendant for the food. “Still in the men’s room, I guess.”  
The dark-haired boy gave his sister a push, shoving the freckled girl into Sam as they left. She grimaced apologetically and frowned at her brother. Sam gave her a polite smile.  
By the time he turned back, Dean was already out the door. “Yep. Not overprotective at all,” Sam muttered, as he felt his back pocket to put his change in his wallet.

-oOo-

  
Cas stared at the face in the mirror. The face stared back. The tired, dark-circled eyes, roaming, searching. He’d thought angels had patience. It was bred in them. Innate. But what were a few decades to a being that had all eternity? It seemed to him, the real test was to have patience when you had the limited days of a human life span. He wanted to be healed, whole and free of pain _right now_ , and it was completely out of his control. His reflection became blurry as his eyes burned with frustration. He clenched his jaw and leaned his weight on his good leg as he turned on the water and splashed his face.

-oOo-

Sam barrelled out through the doors of the store, his eyes immediately stopping on the aging campervan. He marched over and knocked smartly on the door. “Hey!” He could hear some scuffling and a sibilant whisper of “Shit!” before the door was opened by the freckled brother of the girl who had bumped into Sam inside the store. He looked Sam over with an appraising and slightly disdainful glare. “Yeah?” Sam quickly assessed him as harmless and his gaze passed over the teenager to the inside of the van. In the darkness of the closed blinds Sam though he could see glowing paint. The van smelled oddly smoky. The girl arrived at her brother’s side blocking Sam’s view and smirked. She turned to her brother. “Give it up Pete. We’ve been made - Look at his eyes. He’s a grifter too.”  
The corners of Sam’s mouth turned down. “I am not a… Just give me my wallet.”  
The girl’s smirk turned up a notch. “Sure thing, uh,” she pulled a wallet out of her jacket pocket and opened it to look at the license. “… Mr Till Lindeman. What kind of name is _that_?” Her eyes roved over Sam with curiosity.  
Sam held out his hand ignoring the question. Her smirk dissolved a little as she handed the wallet back. Sam looked through it and raised his eyes to the two teenagers. “Where’s the cash?”  
“Finder’s fee.” The girl declared unscrupulously.  
“You ‘found’ it _in my pocket_!” She shrugged carelessly and took a folded wad of notes out of her pocket, counted out four of the six notes and handed them to Sam. She put the other two back in her pocket.  
Sam’s mouth pursed into an unimpressed bitch-face, but he didn't argue the matter. He paused before leaving them. “You should really stay away from weed…” Apparently he’d hit a nerve as the boy snarled, “Shut up! You don’t know anything!” before his sister pulled him back and shut the aluminium door in Sam’s face. Sam’s face scrunched in thought. That was …weird. Where were these kids' parents?

-oOo-

Dean marched hurriedly to the men’s room around the back of the gas station and stopped short with his hand on the door. It wasn’t locked. Was he really about to go barging into the men’s room, like an embarrassing mom? What if Cas was still … busy? He could knock and if there was no answer, then he had every reason to go in, right? He knocked hesitantly on the door. “Cas?” He waited no more than a second before letting himself in.  
Cas looked up from drying his face with a paper towel, his eyes red rimmed. His crutches leaned against the side of the sink.  
Dean stopped in the doorway, the middle of his brows tipping up in concern. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas replied huskily.  
Dean walked in, leaned his hip against the sink and folded his arms. “I’ll tell you a secret. Any time I say that to someone, I’m usually _lying_.” Cas was surprised into a snort of laughter. “That’s _not_ a secret, Dean.” Dean grimaced amiably. “Yeah. Well, we all think we can hide that we’re miserable from the people who know us.” He rested a hand on Cas’ cheek and smoothed his thumb beneath Cas’ eye. “But we can’t.” Dean rested his lips against Cas’ temple and Cas felt Dean press a lingering kiss against his hairline. “I’m sorry, Cas.”  
“Why?”  
Dean shrugged. “Because I wanna let you be independent but still support you,” his shoulders slumped, “and I just can’t get it right. It’s always either too much or not enough.”  
Castiel reached a hand out and toyed nervously with the hem of Dean’s shirt, his eyes fixed on his own fingers fiddling with the fabric. He glanced up at Dean. “I think you are doing very well.” He gave Dean a small reassuring smile. The smile Dean returned to him was magnified. He wrapped his arms around Castiel and slid his hands under Cas’ t-shirt, rubbing his palms over the smooth skin on the small of his back. Cas lay against him very still for a moment, then gathered his brows in a worried frown. “Dean…” he spoke quietly against Dean’s shoulder, “…when we get to Bobby’s - I don’t want to be a burden. I want to pull my weight… although I don’t know how I will do that when I can’t hunt with you.”  
Dean tightened his arms in a small squeeze. “You always were awkward and brave. Even as an angel. And smart. And you still are _all_ those things,” Dean murmured against Cas’ cheek. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think you’re going to be a huge help on the phones with Bobby. He gets a lot of calls for advice from hunters and you have so much knowledge of supernatural beings and lore and languages. I think you’d be really good at it while your leg heals.”  
Cas looked a little surprised at Dean’s outpouring of enthusiasm. “Won’t I be in Bobby’s way? I don’t want to encroach on his domain…”  
Dean kept a hand on Cas’ back while he handed Cas his crutches. “ _Please_ , he’s been complaining for years that he never gets a break and we all take him for granted.” Dean held the door open for him. There was a hope in Cas’ eyes, as he hobbled clumsily past, that made Dean’s heart lighter.

 


	4. Hibernating Otters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas pings all of Dean's comforting instincts. Dean and Sam have a private heart-to-heart that turns out to be not-so-private.

Sam loped towards the Impala. There was a pause in his long stride as he saw Cas hand Dean his crutches and manoeuvre himself carefully into the car’s doorway. He watched as Dean slid an arm around Cas and helped lower him into the car, then handed the crutches back with a smile that was surprisingly tender, and closed the car door. Sam felt a little like a trespasser for witnessing it. He moved towards them again deciding he’d given them enough time.  
“Where are my Cheetos?” Dean asked as Sam arrived at his side. Sam rolled his eyes and gestured at the passenger seat, where their pile of nutritionally bankrupt loot lay. “Where were you?” Dean continued, pulling out the Cheetos and tearing the packet open. Sam glanced back at the campervan where he’d managed to get his wallet back. The girl was pumping gas into the dented, boxy, brown and green RV, probably planning to pay with Sam’s money. “You’ll laugh at me.”  
Dean’s brows rose as he pushed a fistful of Cheetos into his mouth. “Now you _have_ to tell me.” His demand was muffled by the mouthful of food. The rear window of the Impala wound down and Castiel stuck his head out to silently watch them with interest. Dean held the bag of Cheetos out to Cas without a glance, as though he _hadn't_ spent his whole life jealously snatching his food _away_ from people. Cas craned his neck to peer at the contents and sniffed at the packet before taking a handful.  
Sam sighed in a pained manner, deciding it was probably easiest to get it over with swiftly, like the proverbial band-aid, since Dean would never let it go if he thought there was a chance of embarrassing Sam.  
“You know the kids who bumped into me at the counter? They picked my pocket.”  
Dean grinned. “Dude, you got rolled by a girl!”  
Sam grimaced. “I didn't get _rolled_ , Dean.”  
Dean just chuckled.

-oOo-

Sam was focussed on an unfolded road map in his lap. “The turn off can’t be far, there aren’t that many roads around here. We should get one of those GPS units for the car.”  
“We’re not douching up the car just ‘cause you can’t read a map, Sam,” Dean replied, his eyes glued on the road ahead, his foot riding the accelerator heavily.  
A voice came, firm but quiet, from the back seat. “I need to vomit.”  
The car came to gravel-spitting halt by the roadside. Dean leapt out and pulled the back door open, just in time for Castiel to lie across the back seat with his head hanging out the back door. Sam’s face scrunched in sympathy at the wretched gurgling sounds coming from the back seat. Dean peered with distaste at the viscous, orange puddle near his feet. “Cheetos,” he confirmed, patting Cas’ back. Cas moaned in misery and pushed himself upright. “I think it’s in _my nose._ ”  
“Here.” Sam leaned between the front seats, holding out some paper napkins and a bottle of water.  
“Rinse your mouth out,” Dean suggested. “It’ll help.”  
Cas did as he recommended, swirling the water in his mouth and spitting onto the gravel. He frowned thunderously at the plastic bottle in his hand and threw it with all the force he could muster, into the field by the road, making Dean jump back. It landed in the tall, dry grass and kept rolling. “Why is this vessel so _weak_!” Cas sounded angry, but the look he cast at Dean was at once imploring and frustrated. Dean squatted down in front of him. “You won’t always be weak, Cas.” He rested a hand on Cas’ good knee. “It’s just that you’re on medication and in pain.” Cas’ pleading gaze was locked on Dean’s. Dean steadied himself to do what had to be done. “Your ‘vessel’ is slowly healing itself. I know it’s slower than you’re used to, but it’s still pretty amazing how much a human body can take, and still bounce right back. Now the mind, _that’s_ what determines how weak or strong you are. So I’m gonna tell you what Dad used to tell us: Harden the fuck up.”  
It was a mild statement, not spoken harshly, but Dean patted Cas’ knee and pushed his fingers into Cas’ hair, to take the sting from the hard words. “Welcome to the Winchester School of Hard Knocks. Life’s not easy, but it’s precious.”  
Cas looked down at the puddle of vomit near Dean’s feet. Dean could see the determination in his eyes when Cas looked up again. Cas asked quietly, “Could you fetch the bottle of water please, Dean?”  
The corner of Dean’s mouth rose into a smile. “Sure thing, Cas.” His palm trailed down Cas’ neck as he stood up.  
Sam was pleasantly surprised, even impressed, at Dean’s understanding. He’d never been able to see Dean do his ‘family pep talk’ thing from the _outside_ before. He’d always been on the receiving end of the speech. He suddenly saw himself as an observer might have, all of those times Dean had cheered him up, defended him, _raised_ him. He had to confess, he’d never been as patient a listener as Cas was. He cringed to think what a pain-in-the-butt little brother he’d been, all of the times Dean had gone out of his way to try to make to him happy in lots of small ways. He smiled, realizing Cas brought out facets of Dean that Sam hadn’t seen in years.  


-oOo-

Cas was once again passed out in the back seat, finding sleep a simple way of avoiding the feeling of nausea. Sam’s gaze slid unseeing over the trees lining the narrow road. Dean was humming along contentedly to the barely audible strains of Metallica’s _Nothing Else Matters_. He spared a glance at Sam. “You’re awfully quiet, Sam. Not that I’m complaining, but you’re doing that ‘brooding-out-the-rainy-window’ thing again.”  
Sam’s preoccupied face turned towards Dean. “I was thinking about those kids, in the RV. They just felt ‘off,’ you know?”  
Dean shook his head smiling at his brother’s tender-heartedness and relieved Sam still had the trait. “What are you? Child Protective Services? Anyway it’s too late now. We got our own things to worry about.”  
Sam breathed out an unhappy sigh. “I know.”  
They drove in silence for several miles; murmuring Metallica, the rumble of the engine, wheels on tarmac and the occasional quiet snore from Cas, the only sounds. Whenever muted sounds issued from the back seat, Dean’s eyes would dart to the rear-view mirror, concerned. Sam noticed, but made no comment.  
“Sam…” Dean’s voice was strained. He’d been mulling something over for a while without being quite sure how to bring it up. Sam turned towards him and raised questioning eyebrows but didn’t say a word. He knew how easy it was to spook Dean when he was trying to get something off his chest. If he ticked Dean off just when he felt ready to talk about something, Dean would clam up for days.  
“… I think …I _like_ Cas.” Sam waited for more that never came.  
“Actually, you _love_ him, Dean.”  
Dean frowned with his eyes on the road. “This doesn’t surprise you?”  
“I’m your brother. I can tell when someone gets to you, and Cas has gotten under your skin from day one.”  
“Yeah, but…”  
“Dean, you _sleep in the same bed_ with him.”  
“That was just - we don’t -”  
“You two curl up together, like hibernating otters.”  
“That’s not - I don’t -”  
“Accept it, Dean. He ‘likes’ you too.”  
Dean drove on in thoughtful silence.  
Cas’ sleepy voice carried from the back seat. “Otters don’t hibernate.”  
Dean nearly swerved off the road.


	5. Inbred redneck backwoods psycho-killers in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet some teen trouble-makers and Dean lets himself get a little closer to Cas.

“Dammit, Cas! You _can’t_ eavesdrop on people, like that!”  
Especially when they’re confessing their love for you, Dean’s unco-operative brain supplied.  
Cas’ response was very humanly peevish. “When I'm in the same car I can _hardly help_ hearing you.”  
“Well, you don’t just jump in and _say_ stuff!” Dean raised his voice to distract from his blushing.  
“You’re not really asking me to be dishonest with you?” Cas’ voice was small and unsure. “Dean?”  
Dean groaned, because he knew he was losing the argument, but he didn't really want to win. He lowered his voice, not wanting to punish Cas for his own insecurities.

“No, I don’t want you to be dishonest with me, Cas.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror and their eyes met. 

“You just… surprised me, is all.” He could see, from the softening around Cas’ eyes that they were okay again.  
Sam was staring out the window, diligently pretending _not_ to be in the car or hear any of the private conversation going on inches away from him. He suddenly sat up straighter. “Dean! Look!”  
The brown and green RV was on the roadside ahead, leaning precariously, almost in the ditch.  
“I see it, Sam.” Dean’s voice held tension in it.  
One of the rear tires was flat giving the RV its drunken angle. As they slowed to a stop behind the oblong van they could see the girl through the glare of their windscreen, waving at them. It had seemed to Cas that for a moment she had held something in her hand. He put a hand to Dean’s shoulder. “Dean. I think she was armed.”  
Dean looked over his shoulder at Cas, but spoke to Sam. “Glove compartment, Sam.” Cas heard Sam rummaging and then the slap of metal into Dean’s hand. Dean handed a gun to Cas, grip first. “It’s loaded. Take the safety off.” Sam climbed out of the car while Dean and Cas still stared into each other’s eyes. Dean gave Cas’ forearm a squeeze. “You know there’s more stuff in the trunk… Stay with the car.” Dean turned and climbed out to join Sam. Cas watched him leave. Not “stay _in_ the car”, but “stay _with_ the car”. He wasn't here because he was injured, he was here to guard the car and supply weapons if they needed them. He gritted his teeth and propped the crutches up beside him.

-oOo-

“Hello?” Sam couldn't see the girl anywhere, so he headed towards the driver’s compartment. She came around the front of the RV and stopped suddenly, shaking her brown curls. “Oh no, not _you_ again.”

Sam held his hands in the air, “Hey, no hard feelings. You've got a flat tire on a pretty heavy vehicle. We just want to help.”  
A sarcastic voice came from behind them. “Yeah, I bet.” They turned to find her brother had sneaked from the cabin in t-shirt, jeans and bare feet, and trained a shotgun on them.  
“Who’s ‘we’?” The girl narrowed her eyes dis-trustingly. Dean grinned his trademark used-car-salesman grin from beside Sam and waved a hand jauntily. “My brother,” Sam elaborated, rolling his eyes.  
“Who’s in the car?” Her eyes darted to the Impala for a moment.  
“Who? Gimpy?” Dean jumped in, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s on crutches. Couldn't help if he wanted to.”  
The boy scoffed. “I'm sure three grown-assed men would _love_ to ‘help out’ a couple of nubile teens stuck in the middle of some inbred, redneck backwoods!”  
“Pete!” The girl blushed. “I'm sorry… we watched _Cabin in the Woods_ last week…”  
“Hey! _We’re_ the ones who pulled over to help. That makes us the victims and you the psycho-killers!” Dean pointed out unhelpfully.  
“No-one’s killing anyone!” Sam bellowed, pursing his mouth and glaring at Dean.  
Suddenly there was a sharp crack, whack and thump. Sam, Dean and the girl turned to see Pete splayed on the ground, shotgun lying harmless beside him. The padded handle of Cas’ crutch pinned Pete’s neck to the ground, while an ashen-faced Cas leaned his weight heavily on the rubber-tipped end.  
“Cas!” Dean was instantly at Cas’ side while Sam cracked open and emptied the shot gun.  
“I thought it best not to shoot him,” Cas admitted, slowly sliding to the ground, with Dean’s help, his plaster-covered leg splayed out in front of him. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”  
Pete coughed and massaged his neck, once Cas took his weight off the crutch.  
“You can change _your own_ damned tire,” a fed up Sam scowled, throwing the shot gun down.  
“We don’t have a spare…” the girl quietly admitted, not raising her eyes from the ground.  
Sam drew in a frustrated breath and held it for a moment, putting his hands on his hips. He exhaled loudly.  
“Alright, that’s it. You’d better start explaining, ‘cause this shit just don’t fly.”  
The young siblings exchanged a significant look.  
“Sam, Cas has to lie down.” Dean hauled Cas up and helped him hobble to the RV, opening the aluminium door. “Hope you kids _won’t mind_  ”, Dean threw over his shoulder mockingly.  
The pair exchanged another look, more urgent this time.   
Dean had opened the door and peered inside. There were bunches of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, only partially obscuring the gigantic glow-in-the-dark Seal of Solomon painted on the ceiling. Dean’s eyes widened. He carefully sat Cas on the doorstep and went in. A moment later he poked his head back out. “Sam you should see this. At least there’s a bed in here though.” He helped Cas up and with Sam’s help got him into the cabin of the RV. Sam came out and faced the teens again.  
“You kids have trouble with demons?” he asked, eyebrows raised in his most non-threatening manner.  
“We’re not _kids_ ,” Pete said disdainfully.  
“And I guess _you’re_ not demons.” the girl added.

Sam shook his head ruefully. “If we were, you’d be dead. Now - start at the beginning.”

-oOo-

Dean offered Cas a painkiller and some kind of orange drink he’d found to wash it down with. After Cas had swallowed the tablet and handed the glass back, Dean sat on the floor next to the cramped bunk bed in the RV.  
“Cas, we need to talk.”  
Cas threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. “Can’t it wait?”  
“There’s never gonna be a good time to have this conversation, Cas.” Dean sounded worn out. He figured in a darkened camper van was the closest he could get to talking to Cas without having to look him in the eye.  
“Cas…” Dean picked at the frayed edge of the blanket. “…You have to stop _doing_ that.”  
For a moment Cas said nothing and Dean wondered if he understood what Dean meant. Finally Cas spoke.  
“Dean, I will always put you and Sam first. I told you.”  
“That’s not _right!_ ” Dean had thought that he would argue with Cas, angrily tell him how stupidly reckless he was, that he had to stop throwing himself on grenades. Instead he just felt sad, defeated.  
“Cas, no. Didn't you hear Sam? You’re family. You’re just as important as either of us.”  
He slipped his hand under the blanket and took Cas’ hand in his. It wasn't going to get any easier than this. He may as well swallow his pride and ask for what he wanted. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Cas, don’t make me beg. Please.”  
Dean felt Cas interlace their fingers. “Dean, which would you have? The angel - or the man?”  
What the hell kind of question was that? Where did that come from? Dean was blindsided by it, so much so that he answered uncharacteristically honestly. “I’d have _you_ , Cas. Whichever you were.”  
Cas' eyes glowed with adoration and relief. He brought Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, one by one. His voice was fond, but tired when he spoke. “I will endeavour to be more careful.”  
“And you won’t sacrifice yourself,” Dean prompted.  
“And I won’t sacrifice myself,” Cas agreed, yawning.  
“I'm gonna tell you another secret,” Dean said kneeling beside Cas and carefully disentangling their hands and brushing Cas’ hair back from his face.  
“Wha’s’at?” Cas slurred, his painkillers making it hard for him to stay awake.  
“I like seeing you asleep, safe. It kind of … removes a tension from my chest. I don’t know…”  
“Y’r sweet.” There was something childlike about the way Cas clenched his fingers in Dean’s shirt and pulled him down to nudge his nose against Dean’s cheek and give it a wet kiss. Dean was thankful for the dark so that Cas couldn't see him blush. It had been a _long time_ since anyone had thought him sweet.  
Dean gently tucked the blanket around Cas, kissed him on the forehead, and murmured grinning, “You’re adorable.” Cas fell asleep with a dopey smile on his face.

-oOo-

Sam had a lot of information to impart when Dean came out of the trailer, but one look at Dean’s tired face made him think he should wait. Dean didn't even bat any eyelid when he saw the two teenagers were demolishing all of the junk food he’d carefully selected at the gas station.

Sam pulled him aside by an arm. “You okay, Dean?”  
“Yeah, I'm alright.” He sat heavily on the grass, his back against the front tire of the RV.  
“Are you sure? ‘Cause you’re acting weird, man. Did you find something in the van?”  
Dean shook his head slowly. “No… yes. Shit. I'm one of those poor schmucks that I always used to pity and make fun of. It’s too ironic for words.”  
“Dean. Start making sense, before I put you in a headlock.”  
Dean leaned his head back, knocking it against the wheel well of the RV.  
“It’s Cas,” he admitted, his eyes closed. “He pulls smiles from me, like a magician pulls scarves from his pocket. I don’t even know I'm _doing it_ until he smiles back.” Dean sounded dazed.  
Sam shook his head and smiled. “You and Cas make each other _better_. Do you _understand_ that?”  
Dean’s eyes opened and he rubbed a hand over his mouth, staring at Sam with a look akin to a cornered gazelle.


	6. Part Rooster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean are sweet together.

Castiel used a major act of will to force his eyes open. His eyeballs felt sticky in their sockets. He was sure that shouldn't be possible. He noticed a huge glowing demon trap floating before his eyes. It made his heart try to pound its way out of his chest and made him forget his sticky eyeballs. His hands scrabbled at the blankets and he hit his elbow against a wall with a hollow thunk, making him see shooting stars for a second. It took him a moment longer to remember where he was. He breathed out and tried to relax against the pillow.  
Cas sat up and tried to swivel his hips to get his fractured leg out of bed without putting pressure on it. He grunted, trying to lift the weight of both legs and a cast, ungracefully off the thin mattress. Golden daylight burst in as the door was wrenched open and Dean jogged up the step, into the dim, cramped cabin, with a smile Cas found as illuminating as daylight.  
"I thought I heard you awake in here." He sat next to Cas who had finally managed to get both legs over the side of the confined bed space, making the bunk creak in protest. An unexpected torrent of laughter erupted from Dean as he caught sight of Cas. "Oh, man! You should see your hair!" Cas smiled bashfully. "Is it very unkempt?" Dean's laughter took a little while to run out of steam. "Aaah!" Dean wheezed as he caught his breath "It's positively _unseemly_. Come here." Instead, Dean moved closer to Cas. He tried to pat down wayward points and stroked unruly tips that wouldn't stay put.  
"It's like you're part rooster," he teased, smoothing both hands over Cas' soft, sleep-warmed hair. Cas watched Dean's face with wide, serious eyes. Dean's easy smile evaporated and his hands drew still. "Don't look at me like that," he said quietly. "My judgement's impaired - You're all …cute. And sleepy." He rested his hands on Cas' shoulders. Castiel's unguarded gaze didn't stop. Cas inched forward until he was almost in Dean's lap, his right leg in the cast, draped over Dean's knee, his other leg curled behind Dean on the bunk. His hands stroked Dean's sides.  
"I would do anything to have you laugh like that every day."  
For a moment, Dean stared back, struck silent by the idea that anyone would put so much value on his happiness.  
He reminded himself, that's not how his life worked. "Cas…you need someone patient, who can lead you and teach you. I am so not that guy."  
Cas' glowing stare was marred by a rapidly growing frown. "Dean, I've _seen_ you lead. I've _watched_ you teach people patiently over and over. You were patient with _me_ not many hours ago. You _are_ 'that guy'!" Cas brought his hands up to make the air quotes gesture. "You're also infuriating and confusing. I don't have a lot of experience with emotions but I'm quite certain you're not supposed to want to _punch_ someone you care for." Cas' voice was tight. The frown was fully grown and his hands rested in fists on his thighs.  
The corners of Dean's mouth curled up almost against his will. He put his hands over Cas' curled fingers. "Okay, okay. Infuriating and confusing does _sound_ like me. Here," He pulled Cas closer and tried to hug an apology into him. Cas' hands relaxed and his arms wrapped around Dean, reassured. He rested his head on Dean's shoulder, breath warm against Dean's neck. "Tell me another secret," he breathed.

  
-oOo-

  
Sam sat cross legged on the grass, rested his elbows on his knees and examined his hands. They had completed the preliminary introductions and were at the awkward small talk stage.  
"So," Pete interrupted, "Your brother and his…boyfriend? What happened to his leg? Your brother beat on him or something? He some kind of abusive partner?"  
Sam raised his head with a stunned look of disbelief on his face. "No! Jeez!" He turned to the sister, Rose. "Is he always this charming?" She shrugged apologetically. "Pretty much." Sam nodded, expressing the understanding of one long-suffering sibling to another. "So you guys are brother and sister, right?" he gently probed.  
"Better than that," Pete grinned and sat next to Sam on the ground, crossing his legs yoga style. "We're twins. Not identical, obviously."  
"You're young to be travelling alone," Sam fished for information, trying not to be too pushy.  
"You're young to be growing mutton chop sideburns," Pete jibed. Rose threw a Snickers bar at him. "Eat that and shut up for a minute."  
She sat in front of Sam also folding her legs Indian style. "Believe it, or think we're crazy, I don't care. Our parents died saving us from demons," She looked Sam straight in the eye, "and no-one's gonna save the demons _from us_ when we find them."  
Sam returned her stare neutrally. He weighed his responses carefully before speaking. "Do you _know_ what you're up against?"  
"Sure." She answered fast and defensive.  
"Okay," he replied mildly. "How do I even know any of what you say is true? You have to pass some tests before we can trust you."  
" _You_ have to test _us_?" Pete squeaked disbelievingly, chocolate and peanut crumbs flying from his mouth. " _We_ should test _you_!"  
Sam surprised them by agreeing. "Okay. I'll get Dean and Cas and we'll test each other, out in the open, where everyone can see. Sound fair?"  
"Okay," Rose nodded, "but we test you guys first."  
"Fine," Sam bargained, "but we test you guys using our own equipment."  
"Fine," Pete grudgingly agreed, scowling and biting a chunk from his Snickers.  
Sam stared at him intently. "Did you ever meet someone called Gabriel?"

  
-oOo-

  
Dean had encouraged Cas to lie back down and rest some more, and Cas had finally surrendered and curled up facing the wall. No matter how much Dean tried to talk himself out of it, lying down beside Cas in the world's narrowest bunk, seemed like one of the best ideas he'd ever had. "Scoot over, Cas."  
Cas did as Dean asked without question, which made Dean's chest ache in a way he refused to examine too closely. He spooned against Cas, only because it was the only way to fit on the bunk, he rationalized. They fitted together smoothly and Dean tried not to think of otters as he draped an arm over Cas and tucked the other under their shared pillow. He felt Cas lift his own arm and tuck Dean's under it, taking Dean's hand and sliding his fingers between Dean's, interlacing them.  
"You wanted secrets?" Dean offered, "You smell clean and -don't laugh- cottony." He nudged his nose against the back of Cas' neck and breathed in deep. "I like it," he growled, giving Cas' nape a gentle graze of teeth and a slow, sucking kiss.  
"Mmm," Cas rumbled, pulling Dean closer. Dean smiled contentedly to himself and laid more kisses on Cas' neck, drawing more lazily appreciative sounds from Cas' throat. "You like that, huh?" He murmured, his lips moving against Cas' neck.  
"Yes," Cas agreed shamelessly. Dean was thrilled and relieved at how straight forward and honest things were with Cas. No guessing. No games. He heard Cas yawn widely. "Go to sleep, baby. I'll be here," Dean whispered, kissing Cas on the shoulder. He felt Cas relax against him and felt an inexplicable surge of pride and overwhelming tenderness. He buried his face against Cas' hair and held him tighter, biting his tongue _hard_ to stop himself from saying things that couldn't be taken back. It didn't stop him from feeling them though.

  
-oOo-

  
Sam tapped lightly on the door. "Guys?" All was still and silent. He opened the aluminium door and put his head in, craning around to find them in the dark. He crept stealthily in and stood beside the bunk looking down and smiling indulgently. Cas and Dean were wrapped up together _again_. Sam was tempted to take a picture to taunt Dean with later. It seemed mean though; he was so peaceful. They looked comfortable together. Sam had to wonder if Dean was going to be okay with this, or if he was going to try and run away from Cas the moment he started feeling urges that were more… physical. He sighed quietly to himself and decided not to make this any harder for Dean than it inevitably would be. He touched Dean's shoulder. "Hey." He poked again. "Dean."  
Dean fidgeted and turned a sleepy head. "Hm? What?" He pulled his arm out from under Cas' head and rubbed his eyes. He glanced back at Cas, whose breathing was slow and regular, and started to carefully climb off the bunk, slowly drawing a blanket up over Cas' shoulders. "You'll need to get Cas out there too," Sam explained apologetically. "We need to prove we're all human." Cas stirred in the bunk and rolled over to face them. His eyes shone in the darkness. "Joseph Conrad said 'A belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.'."  
Dean unconsciously stroked Cas' hair and smiled. "'Demons I get, but people are crazy' - a wise man named Dean Winchester said that." Dean turned to Sam. "Don't let your guard down just 'cause they're human. Remember the Benders."  
"Oh, I remember. You got beat up by a twelve year old girl." Sam's voice held amusement in it. His eyes twinkled as he grinned challengingly at Dean.  
Dean scowled and folded his arms defensively. "She _stabbed_ me! At least I put up a fight. Unlike _some_ people who needed _rescuing_."  
Cas put a hand on Dean's arm. Dean looked down at Cas. When their eyes met Dean forgot the argument. Cas was staring intently back "Give us a minute, Sam." Dean didn't look up as Sam moved away. Sam paused, raising his brows at the atmosphere of the room thickening with meaning and glancing back at them before leaving the trailer.  
Dean sat back down on the bunk and helped Cas to sit up, keeping an arm around Cas. "I'm probably gonna regret saying this out loud, but I've said a lot worse things, when I should have kept my mouth shut. So…"  
Cas had a frown of concentration and confusion lowering his brow and wrinkling his nose as he listened.  
"Cas, in my head, you and me make sense. We work… do you get what I'm saying?"  
Cas' brows rose in supplication. He thought for a moment and shook his head. Dean sighed, frustrated. "Aw man. You're gonna make me _say_ this?" Dean sighed again and cupped Cas' face, stroking his thumbs carefully over Cas' brows. "I suck at words, Cas."  
A smile of comprehension slowly grew on Cas' face. He stroked Dean's cheek and leaned their foreheads together, slowly but firmly pressing his lips to Dean's, before parting them gently with his stroking tongue. Dean's eyes closed and he pressed closer, shyly meeting Cas' tongue with his own. "Cas, I-"  
Cas' smile broadened and he murmured, "Stop talking."  
"'kay."

 


	7. Subjugated and oppressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean softens up to the strays and the gang has a close call.

Dean felt like dirt because he was sort of glad Cas had a fractured leg. It gave him a reason to stay close to Cas and touch him, even if it was just to help him out of the camper van. Dean was a tactile person, always picking things up, running his fingers over things, opening bottles and sniffing the contents, leaning on things, wiping his hands over his clothes, stuffing food in his mouth. Despite that, he didn't really touch people much, except in the line of work. And at bars. So he guiltily welcomed Cas’ injury and hated himself for it, knowing that it put addictive medicines in Cas’ grasp. He was a douche-bag who was _glad_ that Cas had to rely on him, and all Cas did was give and give. He had no time right now to deal with his emotional and psychological failings. It was enough that he was aware. He had to make sure Cas was okay and he had to figure out what they would do with these untamed kids.

  
-oOo-

  
The group stood around the front of the dented camper at Dean’s insistence. He hadn't wanted to draw attention to their weapons cache in the Impala’s trunk. The camper’s hood was covered in weapons, herbs, salt and flasks. They stood around the hood, except for Cas, who sat in a folding chair, his cast-encased leg resting on a cooler Dean had placed in front of him.  
Pete held out a lime green plastic picnic cup to Dean. “Drink this.” Dean scowled at him, then at Sam for making this deal in the first place. “ _You_ drink it,” he responded childishly. Pete’s eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into the beginnings of a fighting pout. “How do I know it’s not poisoned if you don’t drink it first?” Dean reasoned.  
Cas leaned forward in his seat, opened his mouth, preparing to offer himself as a taste-tester. A warning glance from Dean made him rethink his intention and he leaned back again. He had promised Dean he wouldn't put himself in harm’s way. Pete eyed their exchange with suspicion before gulping a mouthful of the liquid and holding the cup out to Dean. Dean’s nose wrinkled. “Now it’s got _cooties_ ,” he complained.  
“ _Dean_ ,” Cas said exasperatedly while Sam rolled his eyes. Dean frowned at them and snatched the cup, quickly gulping a mouthful. He looked at the contents of the cup, swirling them around unimpressed. “Holy water?”  
Rose shrugged inside her oversized cardigan. “Can’t fault the classics.” Dean nodded and handed the cup to Sam who drank some and handed it to Cas. Cas drank some and, without warning, flicked the dregs at Rose and Pete. Rose blinked and wiped her face, but Pete stood there, mouth gaping like a fish, going red, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Just checking,” Cas explained placidly. Dean was grinning as though Cas was the most amusing thing _ever_.  
“I _don’t_ like you,” Pete said, biting his words out, like snapping chunks off a piece of toffee, “I thought, maybe, _he_ was abusive and _you_ were feeling all subjugated and oppressed.” He stopped and took a deep, calming breath. “But I'm starting to think you’re a dick _too_.”  
“Hey!” Dean objected, making Pete smile genuinely.  
“I'm still learning,” Cas sounded apologetic, as though disappointed he hadn't been _more_ of a dick. Dean felt a small surge of pride at the comment, similar to what he’d felt as a teenager when Sammy had tried to dress or act like him. It was the best kind of compliment.

Rose cleared her throat to get their attention and held a knife up, displaying it to each of them. “Silver.” She nicked the tip of her finger and held the knife out to Sam. Sam took it and eyed it dubiously before looking back at Rose. “No offence, but do you have rubbing alcohol or something? This is too much like sharing a needle.” Rose rolled her eyes but went into the trailer and came out with a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of hand sanitizer. “This’ll have to do.” Sam grimaced but took them and wiped the knife before cutting his palm with it.  
“Why would you _do_ that?” Rose’s eyes widened. “It makes _no_ sense! Your hands are constantly in use and constantly moving. That’ll be a bitch to heal _and_ it’ll hurt. Why would you cut your _palm_?”  
Sam blushed. “That’s the way we always do it!” he said defensively.  
“She makes a good point,” Cas agreed. Sam’s brightly flushing countenance scowled at him.

  
-oOo-

They had all proven each other’s authenticity to everyone’s satisfaction, first using the twin’s implements, then the Winchesters’, to ensure no-one had cheated. Afterwards Dean had walked a few steps away with his phone pressed to his ear.  
“Hey, Bobby. I _know_ we’re late. We found a couple of strays, could be hunters in the making. Either way we need to steer them to safety so… no, I’m not. _No way_ … No way, Bobby...No… Because I said so.” He sighed loudly and rubbed his brow. “Yes, sir.” He ended the call with a pouting frown, as though Bobby could see him.  
Sam walked over hesitantly. “What is it?”  
Dean blew out a frustrated breath. “Bobby wants us to bring them with us. You know how he loves strays.”  
Sam smiled. “Well, he took _us_ in.”  
“Yeah.”  
Dean watched as Pete tried throwing a knife at a tree only for it to hit handle first and bounce off the trunk. Cas shook his head and imitated a knife throw whilst balancing on his crutches, trying to show Pete where he’d gone wrong. Rose picked up the knife lying in the grass and stood beside Pete and Cas before throwing it herself. It struck the tree blade first, although not very deep. Rose whooped and did a small dance of victory for a few seconds, before the knife fell from the thin bark of the tree. Cas had Pete bring him the knife and, even on crutches, made a decent throw at the tree. Dean hoped they could learn _fast_. He and Sam could field-strip and reassemble rifles by age ten. Dean used to think of it as a sort of puzzle, except for most kids, your _life_ didn't depend on being able to solve the puzzle.  
Dean left Sam to watch them, walked to the RV and climbed inside. He touched a bunch of herbs hanging near his head and rubbed the dry leaves between his fingers, sniffing the fragrance. This was probably what Sam had mistaken for weed. Looked like they’d been burning some mix of herbs in a brass bowl. He stared down at the rumpled bunk with the shape of Cas’ head still on the pillow and took the luxury of feeling sorry for himself for a few moments, then forced himself to move on. He opened a cupboard under the sink and found an oversized bag of salt. Exploring a little further he found a small hand gun that was unloaded and in need of a good clean, and a large hunting knife that was so new it still had a price sticker on it He looked in a cookie jar and found a couple of pieces of ammunition with crumbs stuck to them and shook his head, imagining what his father would have thought of this kind of disorganization. He kept searching and found a couple of books that looked like they’d been ordered online.  
“A field guide to demons, fairies and fallen angels…” he read on the cover. These kids were lucky to have made it this far. He lay the book down and looked in the small bar fridge. An almost empty container of chocolate milk, a block of cheese and a half empty bottle of Fanta. Dean opened the chocolate milk and sniffed it, shrugged and drank some straight from the container. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and put the container back in the fridge. No wonder they’d wolfed down his snacks. Not a single fruit or vegetable in sight. No bread. No _real_ food. Not that he was a health freak like Sam, but they didn't even have cereal, macaroni and cheese, or hot dogs. Their wardrobe only held the basics; t-shirts, jeans, sweaters, two coats and a dress, and most of those were on the floor. He poked his head into the tiny bathroom cubicle. Only one roll of toilet paper left. He sighed. He hated to admit Bobby was right. They needed to save these kids from themselves.

  
-oOo-

  
Dean quietly strolled over to where the teens were listening to Sam in rapt silence. He wondered what could command so much respect from the rebellious pair. Cas was also listening with a growing smile on his face.  
“… so then I put superglue on the beer bottle and waited for him to come back. The _look_ on his face when he tried to let go of the bottle! …Oh, hi Dean.” Sam pretended to be surprised to see him.  
“Hi yourself, traitor.” Dean turned away from Sam to the others. Cas shone his smile on Dean and continued smiling in a way that didn't seem to have much to do with Sam’s story.  
“Remind me to tell you about the time I put Nair in Sam’s shampoo.” Dean winked at Cas.  
“What is Nair?” Cas asked in confusion.  
Pete stared at Cas disbelievingly then turned to Dean. “Your boyfriend is _weird_.”  
Dean pursed his lips. “He’s not my…” He glanced back at Cas, who was watching them with avid curiosity and changed his mind. “He was home-schooled. Leave him alone.”  
Rose patted Cas’ arm consolingly and explained. “It’s a hair removal cream.”  
“Ah.” Cas stared at the top of Sam’s head, clearly trying to imagine him without hair.

Dean clapped his hands together. “Pack up your stuff you two. We’re dumping the death-trap here and taking you to a safe house.”  
He was assaulted with a verbal barrage of complaints.  
“It’s not a death-trap!”  
“That’s our _home_!”  
“All our stuff is in there!”  
“You can’t just take us wherever you want!”  
“BE QUIET.” Cas had both his hands up and had spoken just loudly and commandingly enough to stop them in their tracks. “Dean is trying to _help_ you.”  
Pete scowled. “We don’t need your help!” He moved protectively to stand in front of Rose.  
Dean eyed him. “You’re the oldest, right?”  
Pete continued to frown and didn't answer. “I'm not going to force you to do anything, kid. But I don’t want to walk away without trying my best to save your ass. You keep messing with this stuff without the proper training - you’re going to get yourself and your little sister killed.” Dean knew technically Rose wasn't his ‘little sister’, but he wanted to use Pete’s protective older sibling instinct to sway his decision.  
Rose put a stalling hand on Pete’s arm. “We've learned a lot today already, Pete.”  
Cas pointed at the road with his crutch. “You’re about to learn more. We've lingered too long here.”  
A shiny, black Lexus was pulling up behind the Impala. The driver and passenger had eyes as black as the car’s gleaming enamel.  
Dean was left wondering if the universe was going to punish him _every_ time he tried to do something good.

-oOo-

  
The crunch of luxury tires could be heard on the gravel and grass of the roadside, as the group scrambled to hide behind the campervan.  
Dean and Cas booth looked at Cas’ cast. They both raised their eyes at the same time.  
“I'm a hindrance,” Cas stated matter-of-factly.  
“No.” Dean’s jaw clenched and there was a desperation in his eye that could easily have been mistaken for stubbornness by those who didn't know him. He turned to Sam and gripped his shoulder, giving him the kind of look that made even the most tight-fisted gambling grannies hand over their bingo money. Sam sighed in submission.  
“We can’t fight like this,” Sam warned, glancing meaningfully over at Cas and the twins before meeting Dean’s eyes again. “We’ll have to run.” Dean frowned but nodded. They heard car doors open and close. Cas looked down at his crutches.  
“But, I can’t - ”  
Dean snatched Cas’ crutches from under his arms and handed one to each of the twins, leaving Cas teetering, with his mouth open in surprise. Just as he began to topple, Sam leaned in and hoisted Cas unceremoniously over his shoulder, fireman-style.  
Rose crouched down and peered under the van. She could see two pairs of shoes standing in front of the camper. She held her finger to her lips signalling the others to be quiet. They heard one of the demons knock on the door.  
“What are you doing? We’re not Avon! Just go in!” They heard the door open and saw the camper dip as the demons entered.  
Rose and Pete grinned at each other and each gripped one of the crutches tight to their chest. “Now!”  
They ran for the Impala.

They could hear the demons roar in anger and frustration as they realised they were trapped under the inscribed ceiling and could do nothing but watch the group escape.  
Cas grunted with each of Sam’s lurching strides. Sam dumped him roughly in the front passenger seat and crammed himself in the back seat with the twins and the crutches. The extra weight caused the Impala to throw out sods of turf as Dean turned the ignition and accelerated away.  
“That was undignified,” Cas complained, trying to catch his winded breath.  
“You’re _welcome_.” Sam aimed a prime, grade-A sour face at the back of Cas’ head. That’s the thanks he got for making sure his brother’s awkward relationship wasn't ended before it began. Fine. Next time, he’d just leave them both there, and taunt them about their uncomfortable bromance as he made his escape.  
“Thank you, Sam.” Cas added belatedly.  
Dean laughed in relief, glancing at Cas’ contrite expression. For once Cas’ snark and Sam’s bad-tempered looks weren't directed at him. His brother had helped save Cas; two of the few people that he cared most about in the world. And the kids seemed to have sensible heads on their shoulders, which he hadn't expected from teenagers and was a bonus. He gave Cas a simple, true smile and patted his knee surreptitiously. He released some tension from his muscles, glad fate had decided not to crap on him that day. Cas glanced at him concerned, but smiled back.

Pete grinned excitedly, his eyes shining. He didn't even care that the crutches were digging into his knees and Sam’s oversized elbow kept jabbing his ribs every time either of them fidgeted.  
“I knew that trap would come in handy one day!”  
“I bet they came after the bowl!” Rose replied, equally excited. There was a small silence.  
“What? What bowl?” Sam’s brow wrinkled in concern.  
“Yeah, what bowl?” Dean’s sharp glance glared at them from the rear view mirror. Cas twisted around in his seat with a similar look of sharp interest on his face.  
Rose and Pete hesitated, then silently agreed with a look.  
“It’s a kind of bronze bowl with a foot. Kind of like a chalice, but more short and squat,” Pete explained, holding his hands apart to demonstrate it’s size.  
“I saw it,” Dean interrupted, “in the van. Sort of overdecorated in a “ooh sin is bad! Look at all these naked chicks committing sin!” kind of way.”  
“That’s it.” Pete agreed, blushing. “Demons use them with fresh blood in them, to communicate with hell - sometimes to go back there.”  
Sam’s face lit with recognition. He and Dean had seen Meg use one before.  
“It was on the bench, full of ashes that smelled like …chicken seasoning,” Dean added.  
“You _purified_ it,” Cas guessed. “with bitter herbs, salt and fire.”  
Rose grinned proudly. “Yup. It’s useless now.”  
Dean raised his brows, impressed. “Not bad.”  
Pete and Rose smiled at each other having finally earned some respect from the hunters.  
“They clearly weren't expecting the Winchesters to be there, or they wouldn't have sent Dumb  & Dumber to collect it,” Dean speculated.  
Pete’s grin evaporated. “Wow. You _really_ think you’re something, don’t you?”  
“You get used to it.” Sam piped up. Dean was ready to retort.  
“Can we _please_ not antagonize each other?” Cas’ voice was tired and he was starting to look, what Dean liked to call, “smitey”, so Dean held back his cutting remarks. Cas leaned his head against the cool window glass and closed his eyes. Dean would feel better when they got Cas settled in at Bobby’s where he could eat and rest properly without taking any risks until he was healed.  
Besides which, Dean recognized in Pete a similarity of stubbornness.  
“Anyway,” Pete added, not endearing himself to Dean, “It was no thanks to you that they didn't get what they came for.”  
Dean couldn't wait to see him try to butt heads with Bobby.

 


	8. You're Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is not a voyeur, he just wants to make sure his brother is going to be okay in what is turning into a long-term relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because it has been forever, to Quote The Princess Bride, "Let me 'splain ... No, it will take too long. Let me sum up":  
> Cas has a broken leg, Dean is surprisingly nurturing, comforting and protective . Sam is helping Dean come to terms with his growing feelings for Cas. They have found young teen-aged twin siblings, who were made orphans by the work of demons and have been dabbling in "hunting" on their own. They're all heading back to Bobby's for the kids' protection and training.

Most of the time Dean and Castiel were very circumspect in public. Sam thought that no-one seeing them casually would guess they were anything more than friends, possibly family. Only someone seeing them regularly over time would catch glimpses of …something. Only someone who saw them at their most tired, their most pained, their most emotionally drained, might see the careful wall they built, to keep away the outside world, slip occasionally.  
In their hotel room Dean’s hand might rest in the middle of Cas’ back while they listened to Sam describe some clue he’d found. On a long stake-out Sam might fight to stay awake and notice out of the corner of his eye that Dean was dozing, his head slumped on Cas’ shoulder, and instead of waking him, Cas would gently lift his arm so Dean could settle in and be more comfortable. More recently, Sam might arrive with their morning coffees to find Cas sitting on the bed in a towel casting a warm look on Dean, while Dean helped prepare him for a shower by carefully wrapping his plaster cast in cling-wrap, frowning in concentration.  
Sam figures that what he sees is just the tip of a very private iceberg. He can’t imagine Dean letting anyone get that emotionally close to him. But he knows Dean lets Cas in, because Dean’s said as much, and even that was only so that Sam wouldn't pry embarrassingly where he wasn't wanted.

-oOo-  
Dean had Sam in a headlock. The trunk of the Impala was open and the pair were rolling along the side of car wrestling for control as Pete and Rose eyed them cautiously.  
“Say it!” Dean shouted, locking his left arm around his right elbow, which was locked around Sam’s throat. Sam was laughing himself breathless. “No!”  
“Say it!”  
“No way! It’s not even true!” Sam continued to laugh at Dean’s futile efforts to overpower him.  
“Say it!”  
In the background, Cas pulled his bag out of the open trunk, onto the dry, dusty parking lot while balancing on one crutch. He watched them for a moment, then sighed and dragged the bag behind him by the handle, whilst hobbling towards their hotel room on one crutch.  
“Okay! Okay!” Sam chuckled, “ _You’re_ the good looking one.”  
Dean released his choke hold on Sam, grinning proudly. “See, was that so hard?” He looked around for Cas. Rose pointed to the hotel’s front porch with one hand and hefted Sam’s heavy bag with the other since she and Pete had no luggage of their own. Dean spotted Cas sitting on a bench in the shade. Pete just shook his head despairingly at Dean’s conceit. Dean saw the bag on the ground next to Cas’ feet and quickly paced over. “Cas, you shouldn’t…”  
Cas pierced him with a stern, tight-mouthed glare. “What? Do _anything_? I am not helpless, Dean.” Dean looked so contrite that Cas took pity on him. “I left my other crutch in the car,” he offered. A relieved smile shone from Dean’s face. “Okay.” He jogged back to the car and fished the other crutch out of the back-seat. Sam bumped his shoulder as he passed. “I'm the taller one though.”  
“Go to hell, Sam.”  
“I've been. It didn't suit me,” Sam tossed back.  
Dean cringed and paused on his way back to Cas. That was thoughtless. He looked over his shoulder to gauge Sam’s expression. Sam shrugged. “Hey, if you could joke about it, so can I.”  
Dean relaxed his shoulders in relief, giving Sam a genuine smile. They were really going to be okay. Sam smiled back. “By the way, I got you guys your own room. ” He grinned and ran, the twins following after him, all three of them sniggering like children.  
Dean watched Sam loping away. Potential revenge scenarios ran through his mind, but there was no reason to rush. He turned back to the hotel and sat beside Cas on the porch, leaning the crutch against the seat. “Cas…” Cas waited watchfully. Dean sighed heavily. “Your emotions have been swinging all over the place, like a weathervane in a wind storm, man.”  
“I'm trying, Dean. Sometimes my frustration gets the better of me.” He picked at the padding on one of his crutches examining it closely as though it was fascinating. Dean put his hand over Cas’. “I realize what you’re going through… not all of it, but a lot of it.”  
Cas’ hand stilled its fidgeting and he looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes. “I am aware… Thank you.” Dean was surprised when Cas suddenly leaned forward and kissed him. Cas leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes and sighed. “Healing is tiring.” Dean realised he wasn’t expected to say or do anything and smiled, Cas’ warm hand resting easy under his.  
-oOo-

“You boys always come back here to lick your wounds,” Bobby greeted them grimly.  
Those first few nights at Singer’s Salvage Yard were long and uncomfortable, for everyone.  
Although Sam seemed unfazed by Dean and Cas’ closeness, Dean was reluctant to show this “soft” side around Bobby. Perhaps it was a generational thing or perhaps it was the remnants of his Dad’s memory lingering around the man Dean thought of as a father figure. Whatever the cause, at first Dean couldn't bring himself to ask permission to share a room with Cas under Bobby’s roof, even though with the house crammed full, it made sense. Cas trusted Dean enough to stay silent and let Dean make his own pace, and being a relative newcomer to the Winchester clan, chose not to intervene.  
Sam watched as Cas and Dean stayed up extra late, no matter how tired they were, just to spend some extra moments alone together, even if it was just watching TV. He knew they slept better in each other’s company. Several times he came across Cas in the garage on one crutch, leaning against Dean, one hand on the small of Dean’s back up under his shirt, while Dean showed him how to change a spark plug, or replace a fan-belt. Sometimes he’d watch them quietly for a moment, trying to judge how Dean was coping with the imposed delay in their growing relationship. Cas was usually the quiet one and, surprisingly, Dean was the one doing the opening up - letting Cas in. Maybe Cas’ contented silence was what made it easier for Dean. Sam had overheard Dean talking about their childhood, their father and even the things in life he’d always wanted but couldn't have. To Sam’s knowing eye, they both looked strained, like they were waiting for something and had no idea when it would arrive, or _if_ it would arrive and were afraid to ask.

-oOo-  
Bobby’s couch really wasn't the most comfortable, but Dean had managed to fall asleep half way through _Under Siege_. Cas’ arm around his waist was holding him up, while he drooled on Cas’ shoulder, exhausted and completely relaxed.  
Cas turned from the movie credits to look down at Dean sleeping snugly against him. Cas’ mouth curled into a tender smile. He wiped the corner of Dean’s mouth with his thumb. Dean fidgeted in his sleep, curling in closer to Castiel.  
“Hey,” Sam whispered loudly from the door way, “is he asleep?”  
Cas grinned and whispered in Dean’s ear, “You’re pretty.” Dean didn't move.  
“Yes, he’s asleep,” Cas quietly agreed. He gently ran a hand through Dean’s hair. “He really is beautiful… not just to look at. I _feel_ it.” Castiel looked up from his soothing petting of Dean. “You don’t know what I mean, do you?” It was evident from Sam’s perplexed brow ridges that he didn't, but Cas’ reverent face gave him some idea.  
Sam shook his head. “No, I don’t. But I'm really glad you’re with him. He seems to have… purpose. He’s the least self-destructive I have ever seen him. _Ever_. I think he may actually be _happy_. I mean, look at him. That’s bone-deep trust, right there.”  
Cas admired Dean’s sleeping form. “I'm glad.”  
“Okay, well, don’t let him sleep on the couch all night. Goodnight, Cas.”  
“Goodnight, Sam.”  
Cas stroked Dean’s cheek and raised his voice. “Dean. Wake up. I can’t carry you to bed.”  
“Mm?” Dean gazed up at Cas in a semi-conscious state. Cas smiled in response and drew Dean into a slow, thorough kiss. Dean smiled back at him dopily. “Mm. That was good... Do it again.”  
Cas chuckled. “I like you when you’re sleepy.”  
“You like me _all_ the time,” Dean smiled beatifically and pressed his nose against Cas’ cheek.  
“Yes, I do. Come to bed, Dean.”  
Dean’s face had scrunched up in thought. “You never call me anything but Dean. Not honey, not baby or sweetheart, just Dean. But I like _the way_ you say it.” His contemplative frown smoothed out as he smiled. “Ask me to come to bed again. To hell with Bobby and his old school sensibilities.”


	9. What Would Normal People Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The twins are making life at Bobby's interesting. Dean is trying hard to acknowledge just how much he feels for Cas.**

Bobby's annoyed voice carried all the way to Dean's ears in the garage.

"Dean! Come get your damned delinquent!"

Pete was marching away from an irritated Bobby as quickly as possible whilst trying to look nonchalant.

"Come on. I need a hand with the car and Cas is getting bored," Dean lied, steering Pete towards the garage.

"This is bullshit. I need more _hunter_ training." Pete demanded impatiently as they walked. "Why is it taking so long? And why can't I have beer?"

"Because we're waiting for you to mature," Cas interrupted as they entered the garage, his voice low and quiet but with a barbed edge to it.

"You have grease behind your ear." Pete smirked.

Cas blushed and self-consciously rubbed his clean fingers behind his ear while Dean surreptitiously wiped his hand on a rag. "Do I have one on my ass?" Dean asked airily, trying to peer over his shoulder at his own backside. Pete scowled. "No-o."

"Alrighty then." Dean grinned triumphantly as Pete muttered " _Gross_ " under his breath.

-oOo-

One day, Rose sidled up to Cas as he organised Bobby's books. He looked at her curiously. She leaned in and whispered something earnestly then stood back and watched him. He nodded to her and hobbled away to find the brothers in the kitchen.

Sam was folded at the waist, his head in the refrigerator, one arm resting on the fridge door.  
"Dean? Have you been drinking the beer? I'm sure there were more here yesterday…"  
"Nope", Dean did not look up from the table where he was taking a screwdriver to a carburettor.

"Excuse me," Cas interrupted. Both Sam and Dean looked up. Dean grinned. "Hey, Cas."  
Cas smiled back. "Hello, Dean." The moment stretched out between them.

Rose interrupted the growing silence, clearing her throat and reminding Cas of his task.  
"Rose needs to go shopping for feminine hygiene products," Cas stated baldly.  
Dean swallowed, as his eyes darted away, then back to Rose, then away again. Sam blushed. "I would take her myself," Cas explained, apparently unmoved, "But my leg precludes driving." Dean remained stubbornly silent. Sam sighed. "Fine. I'll take you, Rose. _I'm_ not a big baby."

Dean didn't mind the dig at him. It was worth it to see Sam try to cope with the adoration in Rose's eyes. It shouldn't be funny to watch the kid get a big ole crush on Sam - but it was.

Pete was nowhere to be seen.

-oOo-

Dean stomped into the kitchen in his steel capped work boots, looking for Cas. He had tried their room, the library, the bathroom. Cas was not in the house. He found Sam, Pete and Rose sitting in the sun on the porch steps, whittling points onto stakes, while Sam gave them tips about their use. "Rowan is good. Oak and willow too. Holly if you can get it."

Dean tapped Sam's backside with his boot. "Hey, Obi Wan, seen Cas?" Sam pointed at the garage with his stake. "He's been in there since he heard you and Bobby discussing this expedition you're going on. Alone." Sam's voice held a tiny hint of disapproval. Enough to express his opinion, but not enough to set Dean arguing with him. He needn't have worried because Dean was already halfway to the garage before Sam had even finished speaking.

Dean found Cas seated on a stool at the workbench, crutches to one side. Cas leaned over the bench, back curved, head tilted down in concentration. Dean watched as Cas dipped his hand over something repeatedly.

His curiosity grew until he made his way silently closer, stood behind Cas and asked "What are you doing?"

Cas looked up, surprised, a lit candle in one hand, rock salt shell in another. He looked down at the items in his hands. "Making extra salt rounds. And sealing them watertight." The candle flame wavered as Cas' hand shook. He blew the candle out and put it down. The bench almost couldn't be seen beneath the thick layer of neatly ranked ammunition.

"Cas…" Dean wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He was pretty sure he knew what was wrong, but what was the point of asking if he couldn't do anything to make Cas feel better?

Cas motioned at his plaster encased leg and hung his head. "This could happen to you. Or worse."

Dean placed a gentle hand between Cas' shoulder blades. "I've _had_ broken bones, Cas. That's how I know you'll be okay. Because I was."

Cas picked at the crust of wax on one of the fresh shells. "I don't know how else to help you. Protect you."

Dean's heart ached at the picture of helpless misery Cas made. "I made you promise not to sacrifice yourself, and I promise to be careful too. Work the phones for Bobby. Make sure Pete doesn't steal all the beer before I get back. This isn't easy for me to get my head around either, you know." Dean's voice was low and quiet. "You're asking a lot of me."

Cas pulled away frowning. "Dean, I'm not asking for anything."

Dean sighed and smoothed a thumb over Cas' eyebrow, cupping Cas' cheek in his hand. "You are. You don't know it, but you are." Dean's thumb continued stroking Cas' cheek. "I don't do "relationships", Cas. I don't get close and personal. I don't open up or get deep. I have fun. I make cheap, easy promises - and I move on. Literally. Like to another state." Dean gave a sad smile.

Cas pressed his lips to Dean's forehead and whispered, ""Entreat me not to leave thee, or to refrain from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge.""

Dean's sad smile remained. "You getting all biblical on me, Cas?" Cas kissed his lips. "Yes. "Thy people shall be my people" - although I'm fairly certain "your God" and "my God" will never quite…merge," He continued, his mouth quirking in a half smile.

A sigh of a laugh escaped Dean's lips at Cas' deviation from scripture. Cas' hands framed Dean's face as he looked into Dean's eyes earnestly. "Take me seriously. Believe what I say." Dean stared earnestly back, for once completely open and honest.

"I will love you all of my days, Dean."

Dean's eyes welled-up, but he pursed his lips and didn't say anything. His jaw clenched and unclenched several times while Cas waited. "You can't just lay that on me, Cas," Dean whispered hoarsely. Castiel shrugged. "It changes nothing. It's a statement of fact. And I can say anything about myself that I like," he added with a stubborn lift of his chin.

Dean sighed heavily, carefully placing his hands at Cas' waist. "You're killin' me."

"Sometimes I _want_ to," Cas agreed, smiling. He rested his forehead on Dean's shoulder. "Rub my back." It wasn't so much a request as a demand.

So Dean did and Cas melted into it.

"Are you even sure you understand what it means, Cas? I'm a crabby drunk. And I'm selfish. I'm bossy. I'm a compulsive flirt. And I lie. _I lie_ , Cas!"

Cas eyed him mildly. "And those aren't even your _worst_ qualities. I _know_ you, Dean. I've stood by you through the bad times. I think I finally deserve some good times."

Dean's serious-worry-face melted into a smirk.

"Dean." Cas' voice held a warning tone. "I _know_ what you're thinking and that's _not_ what I meant." The twitch at the corners of Cas' mouth betrayed his serious expression.

-oOo-

The first couple of nights Dean had to spend away, Sam thought Cas and Dean's pining was equal parts adorable and excruciating. After that it was mostly only the latter.

-oOo-

It was two in the morning and movement downstairs had woken Bobby. He rolled out of bed, opened the wardrobe, pushed aside an old mackintosh that was more grey than yellow from age and use, and pulled out a battered rifle . He checked it was loaded and crept down the stairs in his old white t-shirt and chequered flannel pyjama pants. Chances were it was just Pete getting into his beer again. That boy had an unquenchable thirst for trouble. Bobby was starting to wonder if he was up to this mentoring racket any more. He was getting too old for this crap.

He could see the light was on in the kitchen and relaxed a little. Probably not intruders then, but he kept a tight grip on the rifle.

He edged his head slowly around the kitchen doorway to find Cas at the kitchen table, meticulously dismantling the Chief's Special semi-automatic Dean and Sam had designated as 'his'.

Bobby locked the safety on the rifle, the noise attracting Cas' attention, and propped it against the wall.

"What the hell are you doin' up?" Bobby scratched his head and yawned.

Cas shrugged a shoulder and started to clean the inside of the barrel. Bobby's eyes narrowed as he eyed Cas critically. He groaned quietly to himself, pulled out a chair next to Cas and dropped tiredly into it. He may end up regretting this, but he had to try, because Dean was like the son he'd never had. And Dean was an idiot.

"Is this about you and Dean?"

Cas' hands stopped, but it was a few seconds before he looked up at Bobby with uncertainty in his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," Cas confessed quietly.

Bobby grunted. Obviously. "I guess you're pretty … caught up in Dean." Cas frowned in confusion and tilted his head in the way that Dean found endearing. Bobby closed his eyes. This was going to be more awkward than he had imagined. And he'd imagined a ton of awkward. Straight to the point, no euphemisms, Bobby reminded himself.

"You like Dean _a lot._ "

"Yes."

"He likes you too."

"Yes."

"A lot."

Cas' frown deepened. "You are quite pointedly _not_ saying something. I don't understand what you're trying _not_ to say."

Bobby rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You boys have a… romantic relationship?"

"We care for each other. We have an emotional commitment to each other, with a physical expression. Is that how you would define a romantic relationship?"

Bobby blinked. "I guess." He hadn't imagined enough awkward to prepare him for this.

"He's slept with a lot of women. Hell, what do I know? Maybe men too." Bobby paused unsure if maybe he was doing Dean a disservice. "You know… Dean has a roving eye," Bobby suggested gently.

"But his heart is faithful," Castiel responded unfazed.

"That why you're up? 'Cause you trust him so much?" Bobby replied sarcastically.

"I worry." Cas lowered his eyes to the gun parts arranged neatly on the table and resumed cleaning the barrel.

"Aw, crap." Bobby felt like a heel. "He'll be fine, kid. Listen, if you need someone to talk to… I can listen. I've been around a while and seen a lot in my day, so nothing surprises me."

Cas looked up, a small smile of amusement lighting up his eyes. "Thank you, but I have also 'been around a while'. Sam has already offered a ready ear - and he seemed much more comfortable with the role."

Bobby snorted. "Fair enough." He groaned, levering himself up out of the kitchen chair. "Don't stay up too long. You're not gonna help anyone by frettin'."

Cas looked up, concerned. "I can't control it."

"I know. No-one can." Bobby patted Cas' shoulder and shuffled back to bed scooping up his rifle on his way.

-oOo-

Dean wiped the gore from his face with the stiff hotel towel. He wiped his hands and pulled his phone from his pocket. His finger hovered over the speed dial for Cas, and hesitated. … Maybe Cas was out. Maybe Sam had taken him drinking. Maybe there was some hot bar girl trying to pick him up _right now_ while he looked all helpless and endearing, wobbling awkwardly on his crutches…

Dean lay his damp head against the wall, as he sat on his tragically empty bed and toyed with his phone. Sam wouldn't take Cas drinking, Dean consoled himself, because Cas was on meds that didn't mix with alcohol. He dialled, even though he hadn't managed to come up with any decent conversational topics and his mind was still playing torturous films of various strangers trying to introduce Cas to 'the pleasures of the flesh'.

Cas picked up halfway through the first ring. "Dean."

"Hey."

They both paused unsure what to say. Dean decided to go with his usual method; saying whatever came into his head. "If we were together, we wouldn't need to say anything else." He heard Cas chuckle and smiled to himself.

"That's true. We don't actually speak much. I miss having you here though. Normally I can _see_ what you're thinking. It's strange not being able to see that."

Dean smiled to himself. "So I'm an open book, huh?"

"No, but you could say, I wrote the user's manual." Dean could hear the smirk in Cas' voice and couldn't contain his own grin. "Funny! Who taught you to smart-mouth like that?"

"I learned from the best," Cas admitted. There was a lull as they both grinned at their phones like fools.

Finally Cas sighed. "I miss you, Dean."

Dean clenched his fist in the blankets. "I _hate_ waking up without you." He hadn't meant to blurt that out.

"I have had difficulty sleeping myself," Cas confessed, picking absently at his shirt buttons. "I miss our contact, all our unspoken communication during a day."

Sitting at Bobby's desk, Sam looked up from the book he was using to give Pete and Rose a 'monster test'.

Dean sighed unhappily. "Yeah, me too." He struggled for words to fill the silence. "I… kind of… _need_ you around." He waited for Cas to gloat.

"I keep choosing groceries, based on pie and bacon cheese burgers. I forget you're not here." Cas said, embarrassed.

"I said goodnight to you last night, even though you weren't here," Dean revealed.

"Me too." Cas sounded like he was smiling.

"Did Sam take you out drinking?"

"No. But we drank with our meal at the diner this - "

"- did the waiter or waitress try to pick you up?"

"Dean, I'm quite capable of rebuffing unwanted advances."

"I believe you. I just don't know if you're very good at _recognising_ unwanted advances."

"I can wear a wedding band while we're apart, if you'd like. A disguise. It will at least send a clear message that I have a partner and am unavailable. " Cas was totally serious.

Dean spluttered. "No! I … no. Well, I mean… uh …no." He considered it. It would keep _some_ people away, surely? No. It was ridiculous. It's not like it was Cas-hunting season. Dean ran a hand over his gore-spattered hair, with the feeling he'd missed something. "No, it's okay Cas. You don't have to do that… I really miss you."

"I know. It feels like…a physical ache… I want you so much, Dean. I want to share what I'm seeing and thinking with you. I like the way, when we're working, I can put my hand out and you'll hand me exactly what I need. I miss that. Sam has to be _told_ everything."

Dean could hear Sam in the background, "Hey!"

"Jesus, Cas! Sam has been listening the whole time?" Cas had just said he _wanted_ Dean. Did he know how that _sounded_? Now Sam was probably assuming they were doing all kinds of things. Things that they weren't actually doing, because a broken leg put all kinds of cramp on their style.

"I'm fairly certain he knows how we feel about each other Dean. I didn't think it would be an issue."

Dean sighed again, rubbing a hand over his flushed face. "Miss you, jackass."

"I love you, Dean."

Dean hesitated for a moment, but had to quietly admit, "I love you too, Cas."

"…I put you on speakerphone." He could hear the humour in Cas' voice.

"I hate you right now," Dean grumbled, but secretly smiled at Cas' amused laughter on the other end. Was that Sam giggling like a girl?

It was only after he'd hung up that Dean's brain caught up with what Cas had said. _Ache, want, need, partner_. And what Dean himself had said. Love.

He sat on the end of the bed rubbing his palms on his jeans over and over. _Now_ what did he do? What do _normal_ people do?


	10. Baby Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Bobby and Cas bond a little more. Dean comes home.**

In the end it didn't matter what normal people would do. Dean could only do what was normal for him: Drink; while his mind circled the truth in ever decreasing spirals, until it was smooshed up against it, face-first, like a tetherball, wrapped around its post.

-oOo-

Bobby was woken in the night by a repeated scraping sound downstairs. He retrieved his rifle from its hiding place behind the all-weather gear and headed into the kitchen without as much trepidation as he once used to feel.

"Godammit, Cas. What are you doing  _now_?"

Cas on one crutch, pulled his head out of the freezer. "You said the freezer was long overdue for defrosting…" He held a plastic spatula in the other hand.

"It's three a.m.!"

Cas ducked his head, like a puppy next to a suspicious puddle.

Bobby sighed. "Couldn't sleep, could you?"

Cas shook his head and looked up to Bobby with hopeful eyes. Bobby sighed in defeat.

"That's not how defrosting is done." Bobby tried to inject some kindness into his voice and kept the impatience at bay. "You don't scoop the ice out. You put the food in a cooler. You unplug the machine and you let it defrost itself. Put some towels around the bottom to catch any melt-water. Then go back to bed. And for heaven's sake, call Dean."

Cas shook his head sharply. "I will call him in the morning. If he is following a lead or on a stake-out, I don't want to give him away."

Bobby's lips pressed into a grim line. "I'm sure he's fine."

Cas' voice was barely loud enough to be heard. "I hope so."

-oOo-

The next morning Bobby got up grumpy and tired, but determined not to sleep in. Life was short enough as it was. If he started wasting it by sleeping in, they may as well bury him now. He entered the kitchen to find Rose at the stove, making a semi-competent job of a cooked breakfast, while Pete set the table for five.

"Where's Sam?"

"Working out," answered Pete, gesturing over his shoulder at Rose, who was caught staring out the window, while the eggs she pretended to be busy poking in the pan got extra crispy. Bobby made a non-commital noise and pretended not to notice. "What about Cas?"

The twins looked at each other with raised brows. Pete turned back to Bobby and shrugged. Bobby's brow wrinkled in concern. Cas was normally the first up when Dean was away; waking everyone else with the popping toaster sound, the bubbling coffee percolator, and the uneven stumping around on his crutches. Breakfast seemed incomplete without him.

Bobby heaved a deeply-felt sigh and dragged himself back up the stairs to Cas' room - Cas and Dean's room now, he supposed. He hesitated, before tapping his knuckles on the door lightly. He wondered what a room shared by those two would look like. Messy as hell most likely. "Cas? You okay?" He tapped again.

"You better be decent in there," Bobby warned, before letting himself in.

The room was surprisingly tidy. Perhaps because Dean was away. He had a habit of dropping his clothes all over the place. Cas' dark mop of hair poked out from the edge of the blankets at the top of the bed. Bobby put a hand on Cas' shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "Hey, you alright, son?"

Cas' head drew in under the blankets and he tried to turn away from Bobby. "You feelin' alright?" Bobby asked, concerned.

"Go. Away." Cas' voice was gruffer than usual. And that was saying something. Bobby noticed Cas' painkillers on top of the bedside drawers, next to an empty water glass and his cell phone.

"How many of these did you take?" Bobby allowed a little sharpness to enter his voice.

"Not enough," came the terse but muffled reply. Bobby took a few moments to control his temper and decide on the best way to handle this.

"What would Dean say about you popping these like Pez?"

"Nothing… The same thing he says now." After a short pause, Cas rolled back towards Bobby and poked his head out from under the blankets. He looked pale and his usually vibrant eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Bobby felt his anger drain away. He picked up Cas' cell phone and held it out.

"Call him. I'm sure he's fine. And once you know he's fine, you can move on to being angry with him and leave behind this pity party." Bobby had a moment of worry when Cas sat still as a statue, then Cas gave a short nod and hugged Bobby. Bobby patted him awkwardly on the back, and held him away with a hand on the shoulder. "Is that one of Dean's flannel shirts?"

Cas' pale cheeks grew a little pink. "Yes. What is Pez?"

-oOo-

Rose settled next to Cas on the porch swing. "Can I ask something personal?"

Cas turned away from staring through rusting metal hulks in the distance and looked at her distractedly. "Yes."

"Is Sam straight?"

Cas paused for a second before answering. "That is a question you should be asking Sam."

Rose's brow creased as she contemplated this awkward idea and decided to change the subject.

"Dean is so douchey, how come you like him? Is it 'cause he's hot?"

"No. Dean is braver, stronger and more caring than most will ever know. And that is as he likes it. His appearance is pleasing to me, I will admit, but I daresay I would have grown fond of his appearance, whatever it was."

"You really  _were_ home schooled, weren't you?" Rose grinned and shook her head. "Weren't his looks what attracted you in the first place?"

Castiel shook his head. "When I first found him, he was very different."

-oOo-

Dean threw back his third shot of scotch and slammed the glass on the bar. It was the middle of the day. He was in a seedy bar, with sunlight seeping through the scratches in the painted-out windows, staring at the other friendless, hardcore drinkers. No-one in this kind of place paid attention to the suspicious stains on his jacket. There was no conversation. The radio was playing goddammed Roberta Flack and he didn't even know how he knew that. This wasn't good; that much he  _did_  know.

His phone beeped.

Cas:  _If you don't call me, I will assume you are dead, mourn you briefly, then move on_.  _Call me. Please._

That was how Cas sent texts. Correct spelling, punctuation, sarcasm hiding anxious subtext, dark implications not quite stated. He always packed a lot more meaning into his words than should be reasonably possible. Dean briefly contemplated the idea of trying to explain by text that he was in the midst of dealing with his emotional trauma through his patented method of drunken memory-loss. He sighed. He didn't have Cas' skill for words. It was the 'please' that was killing him softly. Goddamn Roberta Flack. He pressed 1 on speed dial.

Cas picked up immediately. Dean had expected that. Despite the blasé tone of the text, Dean could speak "Cas" and knew the ex-angel was sitting stoically in a corner, quietly coming apart, second by second. He felt filthy with guilt but, surprisingly, ready to face the music like a man: "I'm not dead. You can kill me when I get home." He heard a relieved sigh on the other end.

"Agreed." There was a quiet pause. "You're having a crisis, aren't you?"

Dean snorted. There really was no tip-toeing around with Cas. "Yeah. You. You made me say it... in front of everyone."

"I'm sorry." Cas' voice was lower and more hoarse than Dean had heard it before.

Dean palmed his face, slid off the stool, and shouldered his way through the door, with the phone still to his ear, out into blinding sunlight. His head started pounding as he squinted accusingly at the sun. "Don't do that. Don't apologize for asking for what you want. I'm almost done with my freak out. Just ... I'll be there soon... Okay?"

"Okay... I want to be angry at you. But I'm so relieved, that I can't-"

"Yeah, yeah. Emotions suck. I thought you already got that memo?" Dean heard a chuckle on the other end that lifted the guilty weight from his mind.

"Well, they're not  _all_  bad." Cas' voice lost it's humor. "I won't use the word again."

"No, Cas, that's not... " Dean felt a pang of loss. He struggled to explain in words. They had never been his allies in argument. "I'm not really a 'tell' kind of guy. I'm more of a 'show' person."

"Dean, we're on the phone. There is no 'showing'."

"And that's my problem, right there."

"Because you 'suck at words'?" Cas said with growing realization in his voice.

"Yes!" Dean agreed in relief.

-oOo-

Dean's heart felt like it was filled with helium as the Impala rolled down the driveway of Singer's Salvage Yard. He was coming home.

As he parked the car and climbed out to stretch, Sam came jogging down the dirt road that led to Bobby's, closely followed by the twins. They passed Sam as he paused panting next to Dean. "What's the matter? Old age catching up with you?" Rose taunted as she and Pete passed Sam grinning. "Hey, Dean," Sam panted.

Dean grinned at him. "They're keeping you on your toes, huh?"

Sam grinned back. "Yeah."

They both looked up at a movement on the porch, to see Cas standing with a cane at the top of the steps, a smile of joy stretching his face.

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs. "You know who smiles like that? No-one. Babies. Babies and Cas, that's who." Sam shook his head and jogged after the twins.

Dean took his time walking over to Cas, unable to stop staring at his honest eyes and the tense line of his body. Dean's head was swimming with happiness, his worries submerged beneath the unfamiliar waters. He couldn't believe that huge smile was all for him, just because he was home. He had no cool lines or smart-assed quips. There was a long list of things he wanted to do with Cas and none of them involved words.

"Hi Cas." Smooth, Dean, he berated himself.

Cas made an aborted move as though he wanted to launch himself at Dean from the top of the stairs, then quickly and lopsidedly made his way down the steps, using the railing and the cane. He threw his arms around Dean with the cane still in his hand. Dean's breath caught at the strength of the embrace and he hugged Cas closely. He heard the cane hit the ground and felt Cas' fingers in his hair. Their foreheads touched as Cas rubbed his nose gently against Dean's. Dean felt Cas' hot, quick breath against his lips once, twice, then there was no telling which of them closed the distance first. Dean's lips parted for Cas without thought, starting a frenzy of deep, searching kisses that took a long while to subside. The depth remained while the frenzy became slower, more passionate. Cas' arms remained around Dean's neck as their lips separated, his breath short and rapid. "Dean."

Dean couldn't remember how to stop smiling. Once he would have made a crack about how irresistible he must be, but all he wanted right now was to see Cas' face, confirm that he was feeling what Dean felt, look into his eyes and see that he was okay.

Dean stroked a hand over the soft flannel shirt covering Cas' ribs. "That shirt looks big on you. Have you been eating okay?"

Cas' eyes shone with a smile. He gave a gentle tug on the hem of Dean's shirt and confessed "It's one of yours." Dean's hand on Cas' waist held Cas a little closer. He kissed Cas again, this time slow and tender. He wasn't sure what to say. He was torn somewhere between wanting Cas to always wear his clothes, and wanting Cas to wear a lot less clothes altogether. He settled for asking quietly, "Did it help?"

Cas gave him a nod.

Dean leaned down, picked up the cane and helped Cas get back up the stairs again so they could sit on the old porch swing. "Your hair's gettin' long." Dean ran his fingers through Cas' hair, pushing it back off his face. "Are you growing a beard? You look like a wild man." His hand cupped Cas cheek while his thumb stroked over the rough growth. Cas' brows drew together as he searched Dean's eyes. "Does it bother you?" Dean shook his head and kissed Cas on the forehead, grinning. "Nope."

Dean took a deep breath and leaned back against the swing. His hand slowly edged closer to Cas. By the time his hand reached Cas, Cas' hand was already waiting, palm up. Dean laced their fingers together and closed his eyes. "How are the kids doing?" he asked with his eyes closed.

"Surprisingly well." Dean felt the weight of Cas' head on his shoulder. Incongruously, the weight on his shoulder somehow made him feel lighter. "Pete reminds me of you in many ways. Always seeking the path of greatest resistance, his own worst critic. His behaviour is improving with each day."

Dean rested his cheek on Cas' head. "Rose?" Cas hummed in thought for a moment. "At night many times… I couldn't sleep and went down to the kitchen… she'd come and spend time with me. We talked. We kept busy until we could sleep. I think she struggles to deal with the path their lives have taken."

Dean felt Cas' thumb stroking his hand. "I think it helps that they have each other."

There was a comfortable silence. "Sam has fitted very naturally into the role of teacher," Cas added.

The corner of Dean's lips turned up in a secret smile. Sam a teacher? Sounded about right. "Bobby?"Dean heard Cas snort. "Bobby is an immovable object and Pete is an unstoppable force. Many times Sam and I have had to distract them before they do or say something unforgivable to each other… Still," Cas mused, "I have never heard Bobby threaten to throw Pete out, or heard Pete threaten to leave."

Dean's eyes opened. "Where  _is_ Bobby?"

"Picking up a delivery at the post office."

One of Dean's eyebrows rose high. "So we have the house to ourselves?"

Cas' face was contemplative. "Not for long."


	11. I Want That Wiped Down With Lysol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cas and Dean make up for lost time. Cas makes the house a home and plays mediator for the twins.**

Dean lifted Cas by the hips onto the kitchen table, while Cas wrapped his unplastered leg around Dean and hauled him close. Dean's face was hidden against Cas' unshaven jaw, but Castiel tilted Dean's face up so he could admire the wayward smile and gleam in his eye.  
The pure admiration on Cas' face made Dean lift his eyebrows in a "no chick flick moments" warning. His hands slid up from Cas' hips to frame Cas' face. Their foreheads touched until Cas angled his head and slotted their lips together like two broken halves of a whole, coming together. There was nothing but heavy breathing and repeated kissing for long minutes. Dean rested his hands on Cas' thighs and leaned in to kiss deeper. Cas laced his fingers at Dean's nape, opening his mouth wider and gently pulling Dean closer.

Dean found himself making an embarrassingly demanding and needy sound.

-oOo-

It didn't matter that the twins had a head start and were younger, because in the end, Sam's longer legs and experienced stamina won out. He beat them back to Bobby's by half a minute. He folded in half, catching his breath on the porch, before straightening up and opening the screen door to the kitchen.

"Ugh! Guys! We have to eat off that table!" He turned towards the twins, blocking the doorway with his wide shoulders. "Looks like we're getting your anti-possession tattoos earlier than we anticipated. Let's go."

"But, urgh! I'm all sweaty! I want to have a shower!"

Sam used his bulk to herd them down the stairs towards the Impala. "Fine. Then, as the winner, I choose to take you all out to lunch."

Rose dug her heels into the gravel of the driveway "I still want to have a shower!" Sam stopped and tried hard to look unconcerned. "It's a 'now or never' deal." Pete and Rose looked at each other. "Pizza," Sam added, hitting the final nail into the coffin of their resistance.

-oOo-

Cas' good leg was wrapped around Dean's waist, his fingers tucked into the waistband of Dean's jeans. Dean's finger's were clenched in Cas' hair. He looked like he was trying his best to swallow Cas' tongue, but just couldn't get deep enough. Cas was doing his best to co-operate, with his long-lashed eyes closed in concentration.  
Dean reluctantly drew away from Cas, giving his bottom lip a last gentle suck, as though it was impossible to be that far apart. Cas slowly opened his eyes and smiled at Dean with pleasantly flushed lips, kissing him briefly again as they parted. "You  _do_ things to me, Cas," Dean growled low, as though the words fought their way out against his will. Cas' examined Dean's face for meaning and, based on his own body's uncontrolled but welcome reaction, thought he understood. He smiled affectionately and kissed Dean's still-warm lips, soon becoming entranced again by Dean's honest and enthusiastic response.

"A- _hem_."

Dean peeled himself away from Cas' mouth with a provocative smacking sound in reply to the interruption.  
"What the  _hell_ do you think you're doin'?"  
Dean spun around so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. He held his hands up defensively, or perhaps to show they were not where they shouldn't be. "I thought you were Sam!"  
Bobby raised his brows and dropped a heavy parcel onto the table with a solid thud. "I want that wiped down with Lysol," he growled as he scooped a beer from the fridge.  
Cas' brows drew down into thoughtful frown and rose again questioningly as he looked at Dean from his perch on the table.  
"He's joking," Dean explained. "I  _think_ he's joking."  
Bobby paused in the kitchen archway to look at them again and shake his head, the beginnings of a smile only partially hidden by his beard.

-oOo-

Dean craned his neck and peered around at the walls and ceiling of the bathroom. His mouth was pressed into a thoughtful line, while the toothbrush in his hand dripped foam onto the bench top.

"The place looks different…brighter?" he muttered around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Bobby, who was passing at the time, paused in mid-step and poked his head in. "No kidding, Sherlock. Your boyfriend cleaned up all the mold in here and replaced the shower curtain. He also had the twins replace all the burned out light bulbs in the house with the highest wattage the fittings would take. And he had them help him clean the windows. You were gone for a while and he didn't pine for you  _all_ the time. Make sure you clean up after yourself, boy."

Bobby turned to go.

"What happened to all the lace curtains?"

"They disintegrated in the washing machine."

Dean couldn't help the snigger that escaped. Bobby frowned menacingly at him. "Wait 'til you see how he's redecorated  _your_ room."

Bobby walked away, smirking at the blank look on Dean's face.

Dean rinsed his toothbrush, rinsed his mouth and wiped the bench with the wadded up hand towel. He was out the door before he turned, went back into the bathroom , took the wadded towel from the bench and hung it back on its rail. He walked to their room a little too fast to be casual and pushed the door open, relieved to see nothing had changed apart from the removal of the dusty, greying, lace curtains from the window. He heard Bobby's chuckle and leaned backwards out of the doorway to see Bobby's head peering around the corner of the hallway.

"Hilarious!" Dean called after him as he disappeared around the bend.

Dean went back into their room and  _really_ looked. It was the same. But neater. Cleaner. Everything was just  _better_ somehow. Even the charcoal grey comforter was better than the faded sleeping tiger duvet that had been there before… although it looked familiar. Dean stepped closer to the bed and flipped up the corner of the comforter, revealing a printed tiger paw. Cas had just flipped the comforter over to its plain underside. Why hadn't anyone thought of that before? That godawful cover had been assaulting Dean's eyes for years.

-oOo-

There was the thumping of combat boots running up the stairs and teenagers bouncing off the walls, as they raced for the bathroom. Rose made a supple slip from Pete's grip and made it to the bathroom first. She did a very brief victory hula before poking her tongue out and slamming the door in Pete's red face. His bottom lip pouted in thought for a moment before his face smoothed out into a malicious grin.

Cas looked up from the large leather-bound tome he was reading with it's spine resting against the edge of the kitchen table, his cane hanging from the handle beside him. He saw Pete stride over to the kitchen sink and give the hot faucet several vicious twists. From upstairs came an unholy wail that drew Cas' gaze upwards. Pete smirked and closed the faucet, only to open it again seconds later to another outraged shriek from upstairs.

Castiel's eyes tracked back to Pete again. "You should be kinder to her." He turned his attention back to the book as Pete glowered malevolently at his interference. Cas ignored the glare and turned the page. "One day your life could be in her hands."

Pete turned off the faucet without a word and went upstairs with a lethargic tread, head lowered. Rose had an extra long, extra hot shower and didn't get out until the water started to cool.

-oOo-

Rose was in a too-large, gray towelling robe, that had once been powder blue. She tilted her chin up pugnaciously, unaware that the turbaned towel on her head was spoiling the effect. Pete was upstairs having an unpleasantly lukewarm shower.

"I'm serious. I want the tattoo on my butt." Rose folded her arms and scowled at Sam, who scowled back unable to think of a good response besides: "I don't want some tattooist staring at your naked ass."

"I suggest you let her," Cas interrupted, "It's one of the more discreet and less painful areas to be tattooed."

Dean leered good-naturedly. "Is that where you'll be getting your tattoo, Cas?"

Cas' reply included a roll of the eyes. " _No."_


	12. Quit Bitching Like a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Dean is full of soft spots for Cas. It's really quite adorable. Cas is quite comfortable. Dean is awkward . Sam loses patience.**

Sam turned from putting away the last of the dishes to see a very self-satisfied Dean stretching luxuriously in the kitchen doorway, dressed only in pajama bottoms. Dean shuffled to the refrigerator yawning while still smiling to himself and proceeded to drink orange juice from the carton in the time-honored manner of generations of manly Winchester men.

Sam refused to broach the subject of Dean's good mood, or even acknowledge it. Even complaining about the drinking from the carton would invite an unnecessarily explicit explanation for his mood. Sam was already too familiar with Dean's drawn-out post-coital highs and his disturbing tendency to describe what led to them, in adjective-filled detail.

Sam watched, confused as Dean poured a glass of orange juice, after he'd already drunk from the carton, and carried it back upstairs. Sweet mother of mercy, Dean had it  _bad_.

-oOo-

Dean crept back into their room looking for telltale signs that he might have woken Cas, but Cas was still sprawled face-down, arms folded under his pillow, covered to the waist by the duvet. Dean put a glass of juice on the bedside table and climbed back into the bed, pulling the warm covers up over Cas' lean shoulders. He couldn't resist running a hand down Castiel's back under the covers. Once he'd started, he didn't want to stop. There was a small, incoherent grumble from Cas along with a slight shift, which made Dean think it might be bothering Cas, so he quietly drew his hand back.

"Don't stop." Cas' voice was warm and rough, and a little bit cranky.  
Dean grinned and rubbed up and down Cas' back more firmly.  
"You're starting to get demanding." Dean smoothed his hand up Cas' neck, into his hair, and rubbed his scalp for a while. Cas gave a deep sigh and melted further into the mattress giving an excellent satisfied cat impersonation.

"You told me to ask for what I want," Cas murmured. Dean switched off the bedside lamp and curled up along Cas' back.  
"I did."  
Cas rolled over, draping an arm and leg over him, and nosed against his cheek. Dean let himself lie back and enjoy it. He felt the ticklish hum of Cas murmuring against his neck.

"That was good."

"Yeah?"

"Mm hm. I like the way you react to me." Cas kissed his way along Dean's jaw while Dean arched into it.

"Yeah?… I like the way I react to you too. You're gonna have to shave that scruff off… Not gonna pass as a federal agent like that."

He felt Cas' mouth curve into a smile as he murmured against Dean's lips. "I'm going back to sleep now."  
Dean could barely get the words out around his own smile. "You do that. Tease." He found himself yawning widely and nestled himself more comfortably around Cas.

-oOo-

Bobby smacked the phone receiver back into it's cradle on the wall phone. A grimy sticker on the wall read "Ass. Skinner - FBI". Dean had thought the label was hilarious when he'd pasted it up during his X-Files phase and Bobby hadn't the heart to change it now.

"That's the fifth caller who said they would  _only_ speak to Assistant Director Skinner." He gave Cas the stink-eye. "They weren't all ladies, either."

Cas lowered his faded 1978 copy of National Geographic and returned the old man's stare impassively. "I'm happy to take the calls."

"That's not the point. You know they ain't got any information. That ain't  _why_ they're callin'."

The ghost of a smile played on the edges of Cas' lips as his voice carried from behind the magazine again.

"A surprising number make enquiries about my attire."

Bobby grunted unsympathetically. He tossed a package onto Cas' lap. "That came for you, from Murphy. A thank you gift for the information on rusalkas that saved her skin."

Cas unwrapped the wrinkled brown paper from around a beaten, old, silver hipflask. His fingers drifted over the scratches and indentations from years of hard use. "This was a Hunter's," he mused.

"Likely," Bobby agreed. "Might wanna rinse it real good 'fore you go drinking from it…"

-oOo-

Rose turned the can of cleaning product and read the ingredients from the label.

"What are you doing?" Sam watched her with curiosity.

"Well…see…sometimes, in a tight spot, you can only work with what you have. I just want to have an idea of what ingredients are in general household items, in case I'm ever stuck somewhere without any defenses… or something."

Sam nodded understandingly. "That's good. You'd be surprised the number of times Dean and I have been saved by a crazy idea when weapons didn't work."

Pete screwed his face up. "Teacher's pet. You're just saying that because she's got a big old crush on you."

Sam gave an exasperated gasp. "You know what? You  _can't_ be hunters. You're gonna  _die_." He slapped a huge hand onto Pete's slim shoulder forcing him to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. "You know why? Because you're still kids. Ah! Don't say anything! Every time you open your mouth you prove me right. You only know about demons and a  _fraction_ of the other stuff that's out there waiting to eat your face off!"

"But demons are the only things that have hassled us so far!" Pete simply could not stay silent. Rose on the other hand watched, close-lipped and wide-eyed.

"So go out there, live normal lives and if anything creepy does happen, you have a better chance than most of surviving. But  _don't_ seek it out! What are you gonna do if a rugaru rips your guts out? Whine about how  _unfair_ it is? Quit bitching like a baby and  _work harder_!"

Sam stomped out of the kitchen slamming the back door behind him.

"Wow. He's really pissed at you," Rose observed.

-oOo-

The windows were wound all the way down, and the radio was off. Cas' freshly shaved profile gazed out the window at the passing scenery, silent and content. He could smell spring in the air and see it in the vibrant green of the fields. The rumble of the engine was soothing. Dean glanced away from the road occasionally to check on his relaxed passenger.

"You okay, Cas?"

Cas' smile showed in his eyes before his lips curved up. He reached over and rubbed his palm over Dean's shoulder. "Yes. I'm fine."

Dean was having a hard time accepting that  _he_ was more nervous about Cas having his cast removed than Cas was.

"You know you've still got a long way to go, even once you get the cast off."

Cas regarded him mildly again. "I know. But I've also come a long way since I was first injured."

Dean glanced at him but stayed quiet.

"I don't need the pain medication any more. I can move more. Soon it will take my full weight."

Dean's answer was subdued. "I know."

Cas watched him thoughtfully before continuing. "Are you going to finish that sentence Dean?"

Dean spared a quick glance away from the road wondering how Cas could still read him so easily when he wasn't an angel anymore.

"Your angel buddies  _could_ have healed you though, right?" Dean glanced across the seat again when Cas' response took a long time coming. He was staring out the windscreen but not at the scenery.

"Cas? Did you even ask?"

Cas' unhappy expression was somewhere between "They got my order wrong" and what Dean labeled "Mighty Smitey".

"Dean… they're not 'my buddies'. Either I am human, and live like one - or I'm not."

Dean found himself pulling over to the roadside, by the rickety fence of a peeling farm house. In contrast the fields were green, lush and better maintained than the homestead. Dean wasn't sure if he was angry. He was upset but not really at Cas, more  _for_ Cas.

Cas' brows were drawn together making a small, distressed crease between them when Dean turned towards him. Dean took in a big breath ready to chastise Cas for his lack of self-care. "Cas-" Irony smacked him in the face like a springy sapling, quick and sharp. He tried to reword his reprimand into an expression of concern. He  _would_ get better with words, if it meant less misunderstandings between him and Cas.

"Cas, when you were an angel, wouldn't you heal someone if you could?" His brows rose in a plea.

"Of course."

"And if one of them offered to heal me when I was hurt, would you expect me to turn it down? Because I'm human - and I have to live like one?"

Cas paused before answering and smiled down at his folded hands. "I see what you are saying."

Dean took Cas' chin in his hand and turned Cas to face him. "Humans survive by accepting help when they need it, Cas."

Castiel was very earnest in his reply. "But the point is moot because I am well on the way to recovery now."

Dean bit his lip in a struggle to keep a straight face and failed with a snort. "Moot? Who even uses words like moot?"

Cas gave him a broad smile. " _I_  do." He gazed at Dean with a contentment and pride that swept Dean's feet right out from under him.

The hand holding Cas' chin slid down to his neck. Dean stroked slowly with his thumb, trying to calm his own rapidly increasing pulse. He whispered a breathless "Goddamn" under his breath, before lunging at Cas' lips like a bear after salmon, all mass and bodyweight.

"Mpf- Dean, we have an appointment to keep!" Cas chuckled, prizing Dean away with both hands.

"Well stop being so...  _you_ all the time!" Dean huffed in exasperation.

Cas gave him an affectionate smile. "Exercise some self-control, Dean."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm all about the abstinence," Dean groused before giving a pained sigh. He breathed in deeply again, let it out in a whoosh and slowly buckled his seatbelt. "Okay, I'm good. I'm good."

Cas placed a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps while we are in town, I can get a haircut and finally get that tattoo?"

Dean perked up a little. "Yeah. And hustle pool." he added, starting the car. He pulled out and drove in loaded silence, keeping his eyes on the road, for a full minute. His gaze darted at Cas for a second.

"Have you noticed how  _crowded_ it is at Bobby's lately?"

"I like it."

"Well  _I_ don't. Every time I want to have a shower there's no hot water. And if there  _is_ , then there's long girl-hairs in the drain and all the towels are damp. And their stuff is every where! And every time I finally fall asleep one of them is stomping up the stairs. And there's never enough food in the fridge anymore. And every time I wanna make out with you, someone walks into the room and settles in with a book, or turns on the TV, or wants us to help them train, or answer the phones or - or -  _something_! You  _can't_ be okay with that!"

"Dean, I spent eons not even being  _perceived_ by the majority of the humanity I served. I like sharing things with people who regard me. I am glad that they want my participation, even though I am still quite unpracticed at things. And most importantly - I have learned that I have merit beyond what I can do, or provide, for others. That  _I_ have value. Ironically,  _you_ have never quite learned the lesson  _yourself."_ Cas' palm cupped Dean's nape, hot and comforting.

Dean's throat ached and he blinked trying to relieve the stinging in his eyes. They must be passing through an area with a high pollen count.

"I've made you sad." Cas' voice dropped low. "If only I could make you laugh, like the time at the brothel or in the camper van. But when I tell you good things, I don't seem to deliver them correctly."

Dean cleared his throat. The pollen must have made his voice hoarse. "No, no. I'm okay. Just… keep on smiling. That's all I need to make my day. Seriously. When you're confident... I really like that. That's just between us, okay?"

Cas' smile beamed from his eyes. Dean's smile slowly grew into a grin which many a waitress would have recognized. Dean liked to call it 'The Heartbreaker'.


	13. Short Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Dean is learning to be more honest with himself and Cas**

Dean was a hardened hunter but there were still certain sounds that gave him goose bumps. Not the pleasant, anticipatory kind either. No, these were the kind where his skin felt like it wanted to crawl away. Bone saws, dentists drills and these orthopedic cast-cutting saws. None of those sounds were ever associated with pleasant activities. Cas seemed relaxed in his boxers as he watched the proceedings with interest. An x-ray and interview from the doctor had already established that he was healing well and feeling little pain.  
Dean sat in an unpleasantly scoop-like plastic chair against the wall, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands over his face. Cas' sweatpants were rolled up in Dean's lap.  
"You know, that's normally the parental seat," the matronly, dark-skinned nurse noted.  
"Dean is definitely not my parental figure," Castiel clarified immediately.  
"Oh, I know, honey. I could tell that straight off." She eyed Dean as he unconsciously twisted Cas' clothing in his lap. "Are you family?"  
Castiel glanced at Dean for direction. Dean was rubbing a hand over his mouth, since the sound of the saw made his teeth buzz - and that just wasn't right.  
Cas turned back to her with a resigned smile. "Yes, we're family. Why do you think he is still sitting there, when he is so clearly uncomfortable? Dean?"  
"… uh, yeah Cas?"  
"I would like a grape-flavored beverage please."  
"Grape?" Dean frowned, bewildered.  
"Yes, please."  
Dean stood up looking relieved and dumped Cas' pants behind him on the seat. "Okay, but it could take a while."  
"Good."  
"And only flight attendants say 'beverage'." Dean hesitated in the doorway. "You sure you don't just want a Coke? There's a machine right here."  
Cas considered it. "Alright. A Coke." He nodded once. "Then sit outside in the hallway and drink it."  
Dean's mouth flattened out in annoyance for few moments before it slowly relaxed into a sheepish smile. "Okay. I'll be in the hallway. Drinking Coke."  
Cas regretfully watched him leave. Dean had nothing but tragic memories associated with hospitals. It was unsurprising that he was so protective that he ignored his own discomfort.  
The nurse chuckled. "Isn't he just the sweetest thing, like a dog with its first pup."  
-oOo-  
Dean crushed the can and aimed a showy over-arm throw at the bin, shaking a proud fist when it went in after the first try. "Yes!"  
Cas came out, looking more glum than when he'd gone in and his limp was more pronounced, even with the cane. Dean couldn't understand it. "What's got you so scowly?"  
Cas grunted an uncooperative response. Dean looked around, saw they were alone and rubbed the small of Cas' back, knowing it always made him relaxed and more than a little amorous. "Cas?" It didn't seem to be working.  
Castiel's mouth screwed up, making his nose wrinkle. "It aches. Without the cast supporting it. And the newly exposed skin feels inordinately sensitive - and unresponsive at the same time. It's annoying. "  
"Wanna change out of the jeans into the track pants again?"  
Cas shook his head frowning at the floor. He raised his head, searching Dean's eyes anxiously. "I may take something for the pain today."  
Dean held his breath for a moment and let his hand stop it's restless circles over Cas' back.  
"That's understandable, Cas." He watched as anxiety evaporated from Cas' eyes replaced by a tired curve of smile. Dean hugged Cas' shoulder. "Guess we'll leave the tattooing and the pool hall for another day then."  
-oOo-  
They parked the Impala in the pot-holed bitumen lot surrounded by cyclone wire fencing. The gate hung at a disheartening angle. His baby was the only vehicle in the lot that didn't have a coat hanger for an antenna, or a personalized sticker on the rear window. Cas was slumped bonelessly towards Dean, his cheek resting against the seat back as he stared with uninterrupted admiration.  
Dean turned to run a hand over Cas' hair. "Can you leave a little length on top?" He looked embarrassed, ready to receive a refusal. "I kind of like…" Cas' intense gaze was daunting . "…Never mind."  
"What, Dean?" Cas' glassy gaze softened to match his voice.  
Dean's fingers tangled themselves in Cas' hair. His voice was quiet and husky. "This. I like when your hair wraps around my fingers. Not a lot, just enough."  
Cas bit his bottom lip with an amused gleam in his eye. "I'd let you kiss me, if you tackled me like a bear right now."  
A smirk spread over Dean's face. "Why don't you get me in the mood with some of your fancy, old-fashioned words?" he teased. But even as each of them spoke, they were slowly drawing together, unable and unwilling to resist the warm memory of all their previous kisses.  
Castiel eventually mouthed his way to Dean's neck where, between dragging kisses, he breathed, "You're learning." He rested his ear on Dean's shoulder and pressed his face against Dean's neck. "To ask. Like _I_ do." He lifted his head to smile ingenuously at Dean "I like knowing what you want. I like _giving_ _you_ what you want."  
Dean smirked again. "Baby, that's bedroom talk."  
Castiel gave a pained sigh. "Alas, I must have my haircut now… so no."  
"Mm, see… 'alas'. That's what I'm talking about."  
-oOo-  
Sam heard the welcome roar of the Impala and looked out the study window once the engine stopped. He saw Dean get out and haul someone's arm across his shoulder to help them out of the car - it didn't look like Cas. He had no cast on his leg and he had some kind of crew cut. He appeared to be hurt and slumped heavily against Dean. Sam dropped his book on the desk and strode towards the front door. "Bobby! Quick!"  
Bobby came running at Sam's call, both of them arriving at the door in time to hold it open for Dean.  
Sam almost jumped back when Cas lifted his head from Dean's shoulder and looked up - and up - to give him a slow and groggy smile. "Sam… y'look…" He turned his face very close to Dean's ear. "Whassa word?…"  
Dean placed a hand on the top of Cas' head, turned it away and inch or two and glared at him. "Fuzzy?"  
"Yea-eea-ss!" Cas dropped his head again as though exhausted.  
Sam's eyes were wide and accusing. "Jesus Christ, Dean! He was supposed to get a haircut, not recruited and stoned!" Bobby bit his lip and snorted. Then he snorted louder as he tried to keep it in. Peals of hyena-like laughter rolled from Bobby. He held his hands up and backed away. Finally he shook his head and walked out of the room, belly shaking with guffaws, like a shabby Santa in a puffy jacket.  
Sam's eyes tracked repetitively over Castiel's cropped hair in disbelief.  
"What-"  
Dean turned his resentful glare on Sam and held up a finger. "Not now. I gotta get him into bed." He scowled at Sam's raised brows. "Not like that. Shut up. "  
"Dean…" Cas hissed in a harsh whisper.  
"What?"  
"… leg doesn't feel mine….s'all… strange 'n' numb."  
Sam watched Dean's resentment fade. Dean gave a resigned sigh and rearranged Cas' arm over his shoulder. "I know, baby." He briefly ran a wistful hand over the velvety texture of Cas' shorn head before putting his arm around Cas' waist. Cas huffed a loud sigh, lay his head back on Dean's shoulder and allowed Dean to steer him up the stairs, letting Dean take most of his weight.  
Dean finally came back downstairs, having removed his jacket and shirt and put Cas to bed. He leaned his back against the refrigerator and folded his arms. Sam waited. Dean glared at the floor then looked back up at Sam.  
"He took some painkillers after they took his cast off, then we went to get his hair cut. I left him alone for five minutes while I moved the car. And when I came in he was asleep in the chair, and the guy was mowing his hair with the clippers like a prisoner or something! The guy says he asked Cas if he wanted a crew cut and swears he said yes." Dean shook his head. "He was so out of it, he would have said yes to having a ferret glued to his head."  
-oOo-  
Cas had slept as deeply as a stone. A rhythmically snoring stone. Originally Dean had placed him on Cas' own side of the bed, sprawled out on his back so his leg wouldn't get jostled, but towards morning the snoring abated and Cas slowly migrated towards Dean, one loosely flung limb after another. Dean knew this, because his brain seemed perversely tuned-in to Cas' movement. Every fidget switched his mind straight from sleeping to fully awake for the space it took to determine if Cas was in discomfort. Then he'd fall asleep as Cas continued to lie still and breathe serenely. Until the next movement. Eventually Cas was wrapped around him and his brain let him rest, knowing Cas was right there and safe. Anytime Cas moved he'd feel it. He didn't need to wake up to know if Cas settled back down or not. Cas was right here. Dean ran a hand over the soft nap of Cas' trimmed hair, kissed Cas' temple and lay, drifting into anxious dreams, where someone else always ate the last of his Lucky Charms, even though he had his name on the box and when he tipped the box over his bowl, it was always empty.  
-oOo-  
"You look ten years younger with your hair short, Cas." Rose smiled at him as she poured herself some juice.  
Dean, who was hunched over his bowl, muttered under his breath. Cas who had been half smiling at her, went back to dragging his spoon half-heartedly through his cereal. Rose's orange juice stopped halfway to her mouth. "Are you guys _fighting_?"  
Dean's head darted up, his mouth an irritated bunch. "No."  
Cas narrowed his eyes at him. "Then why are you angry?"  
Dean's shoulder's uncurled and he thumped his spoon down on the table. "Yes! Thank you!"  
He turned to Rose, gesturing with an open hand "He _finally_ gets it." He turned back to Cas. "Why? Maybe because I actually _ask_ for something and you let -" Rose looked from one to the other. Dean's eyes darted to her for a split second before he jabbed a finger at Cas from across the table. "We are having this discussion in private." He marched out of the kitchen without waiting for Castiel. Cas carefully lined his spoon up next to his bowl, lifted himself out of the chair using the table for leverage, and limped after Dean with a sigh like a deflating airship.  
Rose watched them leave, worry creasing her forehead and waited for the ring of deep voices arguing.  
-oOo-  
Dean was sitting on the end of their bed with his elbows on his knees when Cas finally arrived, having struggled with the stairs.  
"Shut the door."  
Castiel closed it. "May I sit?"  
Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course you can sit, drama-queen."  
Cas sat next to him and said calmly, "I am not the one who instigated the drama, Dean." Then he snorted. "Drama-Queen. Drama-Dean. It rhymes."  
Dean gave him a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. "You're still high?"  
Cas sighed, the humor draining from his eyes. "No, just nauseated and aching." The tight lines around Dean's mouth softened a little.  
He ran his hand over Cas' hair before resting it on Cas' shoulder. "I don't mind the hair. It'll grow back - If you want to. But I feel like an idiot. I should know better than to ask for things. Winchesters should never show their hand. This is why I don't- I never-"  
Cas smiled softly to himself and turned towards Dean. This made sense.  
"Your first foray into 'touchy-feely crap'," Castiel lifted his hands to make air quotes, making Dean smile against his will, "was not very rewarding. But I _was_ listening. Good things _do_ happen, Dean." He kissed Dean's forehead. Dean's eyes closed as if receiving a blessing. "Don't stop asking for what you want." Cas stroked his fingers over Dean's jaw, to the collar of his shirt and down the buttons. "I would _very much_ like to comply with your wishes." His fingers tightened in the fabric of Dean's shirt and drew an unresisting Dean closer. Cas' lips formed a small, promising smile. "I feel sure we have some in common."  
Dean gave up fighting the grin that wanted to stretch his lips, and pressed his face to Cas' cheek, murmuring "Goddamn, I am such a pushover." He cupped a hand over the soft texture of Cas' head and nuzzled at the spot just below his ear that always made Cas most vocal. Now there was a sound that gave him the good kind of goose bumps.  
"Your hair feels awesome, by the way."  
-oOo-  
Rose tipped her head, a habit she'd learned from Cas. She could finally hear something. She thumped the glass down on the table, spilling some of the orange juice. Oh god… That _wasn't_ arguing!

 


	14. Snuffly Hiccups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Dean knows what Cas needs and is trying hard. The twins hit a rough patch.**

Cas had discovered new things about being human that he deeply disliked. Doubt and jealousy. It was triggered by the attention Dean was getting at the bar. He had observed Dean in bars long enough since they'd first met, that he knew how this  _could_ go. But, despite being friendly and polite towards the women (and some of the men) and smiling  _that_ smile, Dean hadn't given Cas reason to fear their own relationship was anything but constant. Dean could earn a degree in loyalty and Cas knew better than to try to discuss his concerns with Dean in public.

"Dean, are you sure this is the best way to gain some cash?"

"No, but it's how Sam and I used to do it, and those twins eat like an army, so we need it. Come on and help me out. "

Castiel realized he was taking the place of Sam in more and more of Dean's routine activities. He hoped Sam didn't mind. He sighed and followed Dean deeper into the bar, his limp barely noticeable. He went to run a hand through his hair and met no resistance. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about his hair being messy, now it was so short. He felt strange in the new clothes Rose had insisted he wear. He had no idea what a "make-over" was but it made Rose very excitable and happy. She had wanted to do something she called "guy-liner", but he had resisted her attempts as he had never seen Dean, Bobby, Sam, or indeed any man in Sioux Falls, wear it around their eyes. He was fairly certain it was reserved for celebrities and movie characters. He had pulled an army sweater over the top of the fitted shirt and dark jeans she had chosen for him. Now, seeing how casually other men in the bar were dressed, he was glad. He didn't want to be noticed, he just wanted to fit in. He was sure Dean would have said something if he had been dressed inappropriately.

Dean jogged his elbow. "Now we  _hustle_. Let me get you a beer." Cas nodded and sat down facing the bar, on the stool next to Dean's. He sipped at the beer Dean slid across to him. Dean turned to face the room, leaning back on his elbows with his back to the bar, so he could view the pool table in the center of the room. He had already managed to gain the focused attention of a blonde woman sitting alone at a table in the corner. She smiled at Dean. Dean smiled back and raised his beer at her. Cas watched it, reflected in the mirror behind the bar.

" _Really_ , Dean?"

Dean turned his head in Cas' direction and smiled complacently. "Hey, I'm an attractive man. I can't hate her for looking."

" _I_ can," Cas muttered into his beer. He also turned to face the pool table. The smile on the woman in the corner grew a little wider. She waved her fingers at Cas, who turned to Dean and raised a brow. "Apparently I am  _also_ an attractive man."

"Can't argue with that," Dean grinned. "Go on, smile at her. You'll make her night."

"No. That would be false encouragement. And you'd better behave yourself or I might be tempted to make a big display of proprietary dominance in front of  _everyone_."

Dean looked at him calculatingly. "You wouldn't."

Cas stared him down. "I might." He looked down into his beer. "You're all I have."

Dean felt his heart squeeze in his chest. He put his hand on Cas' shoulder and lowered his voice. "Baby, if you want, we'll go home  _right now_."

Cas looked up at Dean from under his dark lashes, a spark in his eyes. "No. Let's hustle."

Dean grinned. "Okay then."

It turned out Cas' poker face was pretty effective, and Dean insisted on a 'display of proprietary dominance' in private.

-oOo-

Cas rested his chin on matted whorls of caramel-colored hair and thought about having a shower.  
"Dean. We're a slippery, damp, tangled mess." He was surprised at the rawness of his own voice. Dean's arms tightened around Cas' waist, pushing his face more closely into Cas' warm chest. Cas smiled fondly at Dean's silent protest and ran a fatigued hand up Dean's slick back. "You like it."  
Dean turned his head to rub his flushed cheek against Cas' chest and kissed the nearest stretch of sweat-salted skin. "I love it. Pull the blankets up. I'm getting a chill." He closed his eyes contentedly. His lips tugged upwards into a small, self-absorbed smile as Cas tucked the blanket up over his shoulders.  
Cas kissed Dean's damp hair tenderly. Dean was made happy by the strangest and simplest of things.

-oOo-

Dean's eyes boggled. "What do you  _mean_ , you've never seen Bladerunner?"

Pete rolled his eyes. "It's old."

"It's  _classic_ ," Dean corrected him. He turned to Rose and raised his eyebrows questioningly. She shrugged. He motioned at the couch. "Right. You too. Sit."

Sam arrived with a huge bowl of popcorn in his lap and wedged himself between them on the couch. He returned Dean's stare. "What? I like it, okay?"

Dean settled into the last seat, Bobby's striped old La-Z-boy recliner and aimed the remote control at the TV. Cas came in with two beers in his hand and stopped short, seeing no free seats.  
Dean waved him over, so he went, expecting to hand over Dean's beer. He drew in a surprised breath when Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Cas to sit across his lap.  
"You're gonna like this movie," Dean promised, softly stroking Cas' healing leg. "Just relax." Cas leaned his shoulder against Dean's chest and turned to focus on the movie as the opening sweep of metallic notes and resounding booms started the soundtrack.

-oOo-

Rose could hear Dean's voice raised and followed it, with a weight in her chest. It sounded like he was yelling at Cas. That wasn't right. Cas was good. And Dean loved Cas. What could Cas possibly have done to make Dean raise his voice like that?

"Come on, Cas!"

Was that a sob? Or a grunt? Good grief! Were they fighting? Or… something else? Rose hurried around the corner of the barn blatantly curious and skidded to a stop.

"No! You don't get to stop! One more!"

Cas was lying face down on a narrow bench beneath a gnarled tree beside the barn. He was repeatedly trying to bend his weak leg at the knee, while Dean stood beside him and pushed against it a little for resistance. "Come on, Cas! Last one!"

When Dean let go of the leg, Cas groaned and rolled over. He grabbed Dean's offered hand and allowed Dean to help him up.

"We should do some swimming. Good low-impact muscle-building activity."

Cas made an unimpressed face.

"Get to see me in Speedos…" Dean teased, grinning. Cas' gaze became far-off and speculative.

-oOo-

Cas stared out the kitchen window before a sink full of suds. His back was turned to the door as Dean passed through the hallway with a gigantic drawstring bag of dirty laundry. Dean slowed at the kitchen doorway, admiring Cas because he looked so  _relaxed_ in the faded jeans and black t-shirt that he'd stolen from Dean. Dean noted that Cas was favoring his good leg as he leaned against the sink.

Cas pointed the dripping wash-up brush at the window without turning. "Look."

Dean smiled to himself, left the heavy bag in the hallway, and came to lean against Cas' back with his chin on Cas' shoulder and his hands at Cas' hips. It was freaky, the way Cas could sense he was there. But he was  _Dean's_ freak. Dean laid a small possessive kiss on Cas' nape, before his eyes followed in the direction the brush pointed, to Pete in the car yard.

Pete weighed a rock in his hand. His face scrunched in fury as he slung it at a half crushed old Plymouth that was more rust than enamel and chrome. Glass sprayed across the semi-flattened cabin of the streamlined old car. Pete's aim had improved, but apparently his temper hadn't.

Dean's brow furrowed. "I'll find out what's eating him, before he starts throwing punches."

He took advantage of the fact they were alone to turn a bemused Cas towards him, brush still in hand.

This was still totally out of Dean's comfort zone outside of the bedroom, but he was going to try, because it made Cas' eyes glow with affection, and that made Dean feel good. So if you thought about it, he was being selfish, really. And yeah, it made it easier, if he believed he was doing this for his own selfish reasons. He was so messed up.

"Love you." He kissed Cas on the forehead and hurriedly released him, so he could rush out the door and not deal with the tender, amused look Cas cast after him. Cas didn't raise his voice to call out after Dean, but Dean heard it, simple and clear. "I love you too, Dean."

-oOo-

"Hey!"

Dean arrived just in time to step between Pete and Rose who had started shoving each other in the chest.

"What's the problem here?"

" _Everything_!" Pete snarled. Rose's mouth was screwed up in an ugly, angry pucker, then she suddenly burst into tears.

"Oh, hey…" Dean hesitantly put his arms around her shoulders, patted her back and cast a pleading look at the kitchen window. The look must have been sufficiently pathetic because Cas was soon limping hurriedly over to them.

"What is happening?" He placed a hand on Pete's shoulder which was angrily shaken off. Dean's mouth pressed into a worried line. He jerked his chin at Cas and cast his eyes at Rose's bowed head. Cas nodded and hugged Rose as Dean released her.

Dean stepped in front of Pete and made sure to give him a solid, stony stare for three full seconds. "You. Come with me." He headed to the barn without turning to see if Pete would follow.

Rose had placed her arms around Cas' waist and was still sobbing into his shirt, her face hidden by her curly hair. Cas tilted her chin up.

"You will sit with me in the kitchen and tell me why you are so unhappy."

Rose nodded weakly and wiped her watery eyes. "Okay."

-oOo-

Dean didn't dare turn until he reached the barn. He was relieved to see Pete entering after him, still scowling darkly. Dean's first instinct was to raise his voice and ask what the hell was wrong with him, but he knew Pete was a lot like him as a teenager in many ways. Stubborn, defensive and feeling familial responsibility on his shoulders, perhaps a little more of an open book than Dean had been.  
Dean knew if someone had asked  _him_ what the hell was wrong with him, he'd immediately arc up and fight.

"Sit." Dean gestured at an old log on one side of the barn, waiting to be cut into firewood. Pete hesitated, but when Dean sat, he followed. Dean knew from instinct that sitting side by side, not facing each other, would be easier for Pete. Hell, it would be easier on Dean too.

"So? What's the deal?"

Pete leaned forward and scuffed at the grimy floor. "I hate it here. It's boring. I don't get to ki- …do anything. We're like prisoners."

Dean breathed a sigh. How to explain that it was for their own safety, without making Pete feel like he was being treated like a child?

"We're trying to keep you safe until you're trained enough to protect yourselves."

Pete snorted derisively, which really pushed Dean's buttons. Dean figured that was probably his intention.

-oOo-

Cas placed a mug of steaming tea in front of Rose and stepped back to lean against the sink which was still full of suds. Rose wrapped her hands around the mug and smiled sadly.

"Thanks."

Cas smiled in return. "Now, what is the problem?"

Rose's bottom lip trembled. "It's not just one thing. I-I'm the only girl. We have no friends and there's no one our own age to talk to. And I like Sam. And Pete likes Sam! And Pete wants to be a hunter, and I  _don't_ want to be a hunter! "

Rose pushed her mug away, dropped her face into her folded arms and started freshly sobbing.

Cas' brows rose to his hairline, corrugating his forehead. That was a lot of information to decipher. He stood next to Rose and stroked her hair. "You want to live a normal life."

She sat up, threw her arms around Cas' waist, pressing her face into his shirt again. Her sob of "Yes!" was muffled through snuffly hiccups.

-oOo-

"Okay. So you want to get out more and hunt stuff. Is that all? 'Cause you could've just said something."

Pete's foot scuffed at the floor more violently.  
"No…" he quickly glanced at Dean and away again. "I thought me and Rose would be a team. We always do everything together…"

Dean figured he needed prompting. "Sure. Me and Sam too."

Pete blushed and ducked his head lower. "But Rose … she wants to hang out with girls and do girly-stuff. She never _wanted_ that before! And now she's-" his voice cracked a little, "…deserting me."

Dean frowned at the side of Pete's head because the kid didn't want to meet his eyes. "What do you mean? She's still here. She's still your sister."

Pete spoke towards the gritty floor. "She doesn't want to be a hunter like me." He sounded lost and small and Dean's heart went out to him because he'd been there. He reached out to gently put a hand on Pete's shoulder.

"Yeah, that sucks. Family is everything." He squeezed the shoulder when he wasn't shrugged off. "But she's _still_ your sister and she still cares about you or she wouldn't be getting so upset about it. Trust me."

"I guess," Pete grumbled.

"Did she ask you not to hunt?"

"No."

"Okay. So you hunt and she doesn't. You can  _do_ that."

Pete wiped an eye angrily. "But I don't  _want_ to do that."

Dean sighed. "I know. Sometimes Sam wants things I don't understand too. But I let him. You know why?"

"'Cause he's huge?"

"Ye-  _No._  Wiseass. Because. He's my brother and I want him to be happy. And because we're grown-assed adults, so I can't just tell him to do stuff "because I said so" any more. I have to listen to him as much as he listens to me."

Pete wiped a sleeve under his nose and sat up. "So I have to let her leave me, 'cause I'm an adult?"

Dean smiled. "Something like that. But she's not leaving you. She's leaving hunting."

Pete nodded. "Hunh. Okay…. So... When did you know you were gay?"

Dean choked on his own spit.

"Is this because of all the 'feelings' talk? Talking about feelings doesn't make you gay - Sam's always telling me that."

"No. It's because you - and Cas. And- and- I think I like a guy."

"Oh. Well. Let's just say, I don't like to assume I won't like something until I've tried it. And I'm afraid I'm already taken," Dean smirked proudly.

"Not you! Jeez!" Pete ran out of the barn, affronted.

Dean watched him leave with a surprised blink, unsure whether to be relieved or insulted.


	15. Dean has Appetites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sam takes a break. Looking after the twins is hard work.**

Sam blushed, in an amusing mixture of embarrassment and smugness in Bobby's study, as Dean doubled over laughing and slapping his own knee. Sam's embarrassed smile morphed into a scowl at Dean's open laughter.

"Why are you laughing? No one has the hots  _for you_. Shouldn't you be offended or something?"

Dean straightened up and wiped his eye. "'Course not. I'm clearly off the market and so is Cas. That left either you - or Bobby. And that's nothing to brag about."

"Huh. I figured you'd be all caveman about it - " _Me_ want young, impressionable fans!" and get all pissy."

Dean's face slid into an annoyed frown. "I don't sound like that!"

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "That's what you sound like  _to me_."

"Anyway, Sam, I don't  _need_ any admirers. I am a fully satisfied man. Cas does this-"

"DUDE! No! I am  _so_ not ready to hear that stuff!"

"Okay, okay. Let's just say- Cas has  _appetites_." One corner of Dean's lips curved into a lopsided grin, his eyes were glassily unfocussed as his mind wandered to more pleasant times.

The corners of Sam's mouth turned down and his nose scrunched in distaste at the things he was valiantly trying  _not_ to picture his brother doing. He rubbed his hands over his face and ran them back through his hair, groaning. "This complicates things. Where are they now?"

"Bobby's got them sweeping out his workshop."

Sam sighed. "I think maybe I should get out for a while."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean agreed thoughtfully. "Go on a hunt with Bobby. I'm sure there's something you could do for a few days. Let things die down." Dean rested his backside on the arm of the couch leaning back on his hands. "Me and Cas can handle the twins for a while."

Sam nodded once and pressed his lips together pensively. He leaned against the couch beside Dean. "You and Cas…You're really trying, huh?" He hesitantly patted Dean on the back. Dean ducked his head between his shoulders, stared at his boots and shrugged. "Yeah."

Sam's brows rose, wrinkling his forehead when Dean didn't offer any kind of denial or rebuttal. "Uh, well, that's good. That's  _good_ , Dean." He squeezed Dean's shoulder and stood. "Well, I better give Bobby a heads up." He shook his head, grimacing. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this."

-oOo-

Cas stood in the dingy hallway, a hand on Rose's shoulder. They were both in jackets, ready to leave.

"No-one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do. This doesn't mean you have to be a hunter. It's to protect you. You  _wanted_ a tattoo, remember?"

The sides of Rose's mouth tightened in hesitation. "I wish I could get a butterfly or a dolphin. Not some freak-stamp."

Cas made a grumble of exasperation in the back of his throat. "I am getting one too. For my own safety."

Rose stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and turned towards the front door.

"We're going to look like freaky cultists, all going in and getting the same tattoo. I hope you know that."

Cas rolled his eyes and chivvied her towards the car with relief. That was as close to capitulation as she would get.

-oOo-

Dean handed over consent forms for Pete and Rose to the multiply-pierced attendant at the counter, who read the forms slowly and eyeballed each of them with an equal lack of speed. "Their guardians, huh?"

Dean gave him a brittle smile but Cas noticed him clenching his fists at his side. The guy looked at the design sheet in his hand and raised a brow. "All getting this sunburst pentagram thing, huh?"

Cas stepped in, subtly half-blocking Dean from the counter. "It is a way of commemorating the passing of their parents."

The young man's olive cheeks went slightly pink. "Oh. I'm sorry."

A glance at Dean told Cas, by the slight uplift in Dean's lips and shine in his eyes, that he was impressed. The young attendant turned back to Dean. "What about you? Don't you want one?"

"Nah. I got mine already." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "Cas'll go first." Cas nodded once, meeting the young man's eyes determinedly. "Yes."

-oOo-

Dean had sat beside Cas and let him clasp his fingers tightly around Dean's thumb.

"So," the tattooist raised his voice above the harsh buzzing of the needle, "This your first tattoo?" His gloved hands swabbed over the outline he had traced on Cas' bicep.

Dean saw the smallest frown appear between Cas' brows and redirected the tattooist's attention. "Listen-" Dean glanced at the name embroidered on the man's shirt pocket. "…Ron. He's not really one for small talk."

The man glanced at Dean in surprise. "Okay." Dean glanced at their hands when Cas gave his thumb a small squeeze of thanks, and looked up to see the small smile that showed in Cas' eyes, even if his lips were pale and pressed together in concentration. He put his free hand on the top of Cas' head and gave little strokes with the tips of his fingers. "It won't take long, Cas." He wiped the growing perspiration from Cas' brow with his thumb.

-oOo-

Rose whimpered and squeezed until she ground together the bones in Cas' hand. In the end she had demanded to have her tattoo on her left buttock. Luckily Cas was her favorite and had to sit with her to keep her company while a heavily tattooed blonde with angular cheek bones applied the tattoo. Dean wasn't sure how  _he_ would have coped with that level of awkward. Cas seemed to be oblivious to the awkward.

"It will be over soon." He stroked Rose's hair as Dean had done for him.

-oOo-

"I wanna go on my own!"

Dean and Pete were almost nose to nose in the deep purple hallway of the tattoo parlor. Ron, who had applied Cas' tattoo poked his head out of the room "You guys coming?"

Dean smiled tightly and nodded. "Yep, just a second." He turned back to Pete. "You can't go on your own. You're a minor." He turned Pete in the direction of the room and pressed his back to get him moving. "Don't worry. I'll sit in the corner and read a magazine. You won't even know I'm there."

Dean glanced up from his copy of Inked to check on Pete when his breaths sounded a little shaky. Pete was face down on a padded bench having his tattoo applied to his back. Dean hesitated. "You okay?"

"Yes!"

"'Kay then." Ungrateful brat. He raised the magazine up in front of his face again, until a hand lowered it for him. He looked up into Cas' smiling lips and sparkling eyes. "Hello, Dean." Dean felt his temperature go up. That phrase ought to be illegal in public. Dean grinned back at him and whispered "Hey, baby." He really wanted to grab onto those hips and haul Cas in for a kiss. He cleared his throat and at a normal volume asked "Where's Rose?"

"Lying face down, with an ice pack on her rear," Cas said, smirking a little. Cas turned to check on Pete and squatted down beside him, staying out of the tattooist's way.

"Hello, Pete. You can ask for a "time-out" any time you need one."

"I  _know_. Jeez. I'm not made of glass, guys!"

"Very well."

Cas put his hands to his knees and stood up with a groan. He sat next to Dean and rubbed at his sore leg.

"You okay, Cas?"

Cas patted Dean's arm. "I'm fine. Maybe we  _should_ add swimming to my rehabilitation program." He sighed and stood up again. "I had better check on Rose." He brushed his fingers behind Dean's ear, leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, and left the room. Dean slumped in his chair and pulled the magazine up in front of his face again, to hide his blush and his dopey smile.

-oOo-

"Who's up for some diner food?" Dean grinned on the way to the Impala.

Rose groaned deeply. "Please don't take us anywhere I'll have to  _sit_!" she begged.

Pete sniggered. "Told ya, it should've been a tramp stamp."

Dean stopped and leaned against the roof of the car pursing his mouth in thought. "There's an ice cream place…?" He suggested uncertainly. He was surprised when Cas was the first to reply.

"I would like that very much."

"Ice cream it is then," Dean replied with a grin, his gaze becoming slightly distracted. Pete rolled his eyes and sighed loudly but got into the back seat without complaint. Rose slid in very gingerly and with a whimper.

Dean dropped into his seat and looked at her in the rear view mirror. "I'll try to avoid the bumps."

He turned to Cas in the passenger seat. "We need to get you the  _thickest_ chocolate sundae, with the  _longest_ spoon. And cream, lots of cream. And a cherry. With a stem."

Cas frowned uncertainly as Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat, tugged at the seam of his jeans, and started the car.


	16. Hello Jail Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cas and Dean have some awkward domestic moments with the teens. Cas loves Dean - in sickness, and in health...**

How was this his life now? Dean sat in a padded pink armchair outside the ladies' fitting rooms, his back slumped into a curve of defeat inside his leather jacket, while he hid his face in his hands. He sat up to look for Cas, who seemed to be quite at home examining the construction of various costumes with curiosity and interest, wandering the aisles of women's swimwear in his jeans and dark blue v-neck sweater. He caught Cas' sight and received a fond crinkle of Cas' eyes and small curve of his lips in reply.

"I like this one." Rose's voice made both Dean and Cas turn in her direction when she emerged from the fitting room in a tiny scarlet vinyl bikini, her dark, curly hair framing her lightly freckled face and large green eyes. Hello jailbait. Dean lunged out of the armchair.

" _Hell no_!" He snatched the one-piece that Cas had been examining, out of his hands, and shoved it at Rose. "Here. This one."

She pouted and folded her arms under her chest, which made Dean have to look away. Rose put her hands on her hips and refused to take the bathers Dean was holding towards her, while his eyes avoided her.

"It looks like the tropics threw up on it.  _In the 80's_. I want a  _two-piece_!"

"Fine. But not  _those. …_ Can't you find something with ruffles? And polka dots? Wider straps?"

Cas' gaze flicked back and forth between Dean's embarrassed blush and Rose's stubbornly lifted chin, in concern. In the end, he managed to appease both of them by finding a pastel blue gingham pair in a vintage style they both found agreeable.

Dean lagged behind with Cas while Rose walked ahead of them to the car, chin held high, clinging triumphantly to the bag containing her new swimwear.

"Can you  _believe_ that, Cas?" Cas shrugged and looked at Dean searchingly. Dean stopped in his tracks. "That outfit didn't bother you at all?"

Cas' head tilted a little in confusion. "Should it?"

" _Yes_!" Dean said emphatically. Cas continued to frown a little. "What, Cas?"

Cas shook his head. "Every human object is enshrined in meaning and context, the subtlety of which I may not live long enough to learn. All I saw was Rose in red bathers."

Dean's smile was small, soft and warm. "Uriel was wrong. You're still uncorrupted by us mud monkeys." In the middle of the sidewalk, he slid his arm around Cas' waist in a one-armed hug.

-oOo-

Dean unlocked the Impala's boot and smiled as he watched Rose twisting a towel in both hands to teach Cas how to snap it at someone. His smile melted at the whiff of chlorine rising from his skin. Even though it was his idea to bring Cas here for more training, and to let the teens socialize, he was regretting it after some of the snotty-nosed kids he'd seen trailing their germs all over the pool. Cas didn't seem worried. Dean worried that he didn't realize how vulnerable he was to small things like germs now.

Dean was distracted by Pete clearing his throat. He turned from putting their damp swim bags into the trunk of the Impala and raised a brow. "Got something to say, slick?"

Pete leaned against the car and waited for Cas and Rose to get into the car. "Real proud of you, Dean." He smirked and lightly punched Dean on the upper arm. Dean scowled and looked at the spot Pete had just smacked before looking back with his face screwed up in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought for sure you wouldn't be able to resist fondling Cas in his bathers - but you did good. Despite all your heart-eyes and tongue-lolling, you didn't embarrass us at all. Good job...'ppreciate it." He slapped Dean's arm once more and got into the back seat with Rose, still smirking.

As Dean climbed into the driver's seat with an unamused scowl on his face Cas looked at him with curiosity. He patted Dean's knee. "Don't worry Dean. I'm sure there wasn't as much bacteria in the pool as you suspect." Dean slowly turned towards him, eyes wide with disbelief, then burst out laughing. Cas' eyes lit up with mixed joy and confusion. His heart was a warm coal in his chest although, as usual, he wasn't sure what he'd done to make Dean so happy. The fact that he had been able to make Dean laugh was enough to make him grin.

-oOo-

Bugs circled the porch light as Cas called Sam's number.

"Hey Cas! What's up!" Cas could hear a lot of noise in the background, people talking, music, loud whistles. "Bobby! Keep an eye on him!" The sounds abruptly stopped after the sound of a door clicking shut.

"Sorry about that. What's up, Cas? You guys doing okay?"

"I'm not sure… Dean seems … unwell."

"Unwell? What do you mean? Like  _normal_ unwell - or  _paranormal_ unwell?"

"Normal unwell, I think. We haven't been near anything supernatural and he has no injuries."

"Well, why don't you put him on and let  _him_ tell me what's wrong?"

Cas paused, reluctant to admit that he just wanted Sam to tell him how to look after Dean.

"He's resting. I just wanted reassurance that it's nothing serious."

"Okay…why don't you tell me what his symptoms are?"

Cas described Dean's lack of interest in finishing his burger at lunch, his lethargic movement and above-average grumpiness.

"Does he have a temperature?"

"Yes."

"Could be flu. Could be a virus or infection of some kind."

"What can I do?"

"Just keep an eye on him. Try to get him to rest. Good luck with that. And if he starts throwing up or not taking liquids, get him to see a doctor. Oh, and it might be contagious.  _You_ could get it. So, you know - hygiene."

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes. All the hygiene advice in the world wouldn't keep him from kissing Dean.

"Thank you, Sam."

"That's okay, Cas. I'm glad you called. If things get worse, Bobby and I can get there in about twenty-four hours."

Cas smiled to himself. Sam and Dean were still very protective of each other's wellbeing, even when it was out of their control.

"I hope it won't be necessary. I will call you again tomorrow."

"Okay… thanks, Cas."

-oOo-

Cas quietly woke Dean from dozing on the couch to make him take a couple of aspirin and another glass of water, which Dean petulantly refused, shaking his head crossly and pouting like a child.

"I just wanna sleep. Told you the swimming pool was a seething cess-pit of germs," he moaned accusingly.

Cas kept trying to pry Dean's fist open to put the tablets into it. "Dean, you have a temperature and loss of appetite. You're sick. Take them."

Dean's jaw clenched. He pulled his hand away. "No. Stop being a bossy dick."

Cas sat back and considered a temporary retreat. "Alright, he sighed. "Let's just go to bed." He patted Dean's shoulder as he stood, and went upstairs without a backward glance. Dean's shoulders slumped. He rubbed a hand over his mouth as he stood, wishing he could take back his short words and followed Cas without argument. In their room, Cas changed into his shorts and t-shirt and let Dean struggle tiredly with his own clothing. By the time Dean had taken the stairs and changed, he was sweating. Cas was already comfortably under the covers on his side, with his back to the middle of the bed. Dean climbed shakily under the comforter and shivered. He reached out for Cas' back and stroked it once, in silent apology.

Cas rolled over to face him and brushed Dean's wilting hair back from his damp forehead.

"I love you, Dean, but…"

"But?…" Dean's eyes were feverishly luminous and concerned.

"…you are very frustrating." Cas smiled at him affectionately. "And stubborn." He curled his fingers at Dean's nape and brought their foreheads together. Dean sighed loudly. "It's really disturbing that my friends and enemies say the same things about me."

Cas kept his fingers on Dean's neck, stroking Dean's cheek with his thumb. "I can  _make_ you take the aspirin, you know," he murmured. Dean looked up at him with curiosity, to see Cas take a tablet from the bedside table, part his lips and place the tablet onto his own tongue. He leaned into Dean, gently pulling him closer and drew him into a comprehensive kiss. Although Dean couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened, he ended up eyes closed, with the aspirin dissolving in his mouth and swallowed it.

He opened his eyes and was rewarded with Cas' slowly blossoming smile.

"Yeah," Dean said softly, "okay." They went through the same process again, only this time Dean took his time and kissed Cas more slowly. Cas carefully drew away. "Swallow it before it dissolves, Dean." There was humor in his voice.

"Sure, that's what you  _always_ say," Dean smirked. Cas handed him the water. They stared at each other as Dean drank. Cas took the glass from Dean's hand and tucked him in. He kissed Dean's chin, his blazing cheeks, his nose and finally, his hot forehead. "Rest."

He curled against Dean's side, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean heaved a deep, relieved breath and fell asleep.


End file.
